7 Disney References
by Before he exits
Summary: How can you not fall for the hero? He always gets the girl, especially when that hero is America! I mean sure he is arrogant, annoying, loud, noisy and well he's also pretty awesome, if only you could have just one day with him. All you need is 7 minutes. Told in a longer version of 7 Minutes in Heaven style. Nation and Reader of course, with the story told from the readers POV.
1. A Dream is a Wish

You laughed wildly as you fell into the pile of pillows and loose feathers, you felt like you were trying to swim in marshmallows. America appeared in front of you inches from your face, he was smiling and struggling to keep his eyes open over his smile, "Don't worry Miss I'll save you, I'm the hero!" He struck a pose and you laughed harder at him. You still were having a hard time breathing from how intense your pillow fight had gotten.

You forced your breathing to focus and between gasps you managed, "No thanks, junior."

His face fell, "Well why not?"

"Ever save a city before?"

"I saved Austria when he was lost on the beach last week, does that count? He's a country!"

"He's a representative."

"Ok um...well-"

"Thought so," you snickered as you nudged him with your foot.

"But you're a damsel in distress aren't you? I can't just leave you here!"

"I'm a damsel, I'm in distress, I can handle it." You leaned forward so you were propped up on your elbows and pulled America down to your level with a tug on the belt loop of his pants making his knees buckle, "Have a nice day." You gave him a dazzling little sarcastic smile.

"Well in that case," he smiled back leaning forward, "I'll have to capture you and keep you myself," he winked. You laughed as you were pushed back down into the pillows trying to swat him off of you.

His hands were pinning your wrists down and his knees held your legs close together so you couldn't kick. It was enough pressure to keep you down but not enough to hurt you. You couldn't stop laughing at the fun you two were having and how smooth he was, "I thought you were the hero?"

He put a pillowcase over his face; the owner had exploded earlier in your fight. "You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become a villain and you know I'm more or less immortal."

"What a shame, I never got a spider style kiss," you gave him a small pout.

"Maybe I could be the hero one more time," you could tell he was smiling by the tone of his voice.

You leaned back up and he backed up, your face serious you had wanted to kiss America for the longest time and you didn't want the moment to be lost. You put your hand at the rim of the cover and began pushing it up along America's jaw line. "Careful," he answered as your fingers touched the base of his lips. You rolled it up around his lips and leaned in, you almost had hit his lips when he said, "You won't tell anyone right?" you knew he wasn't talking about the kiss.

You shook your head no, "You're secret is safe with me."

He pulled the hood completely off of his head, his hair staticy and swishing the direction he had pulled. You pretended to give a small gasp and he smiled at you, "Where were we?"

You brushed your fingertips against his cheek, "Somewhere around here."

"I think it was a little closer," he moved your fingers over to his lips and kissed their tips lightly, "About here."

You smiled and leaned in.

You felt a poke on your face and woke up. The room was still dark; the only pillow was the one you clung to in your sleep. You gave out a sigh of let down, "Sorry..." you looked down over the rim of your bed to see Sealand, his face was barely over the side of your bed.

Your eyes softened, "No, no Sealand not you sweetie. What happened?"

"I had a bad dream."

"You want to talk about it or just crawl up here?" He held out a hand so you could help him up. You rolled over and sat up in your bed, you bent over the side and lifted him up by his hips and set him in your lap. His hair was a mess and his face was flushed, he looked like he had been rolling around in his bed, covers over his head trying to banish the nightmare. You brushed his hair out of his face softly; the strands had been statically charged and stuck to your hand. You knew touching it would make it worse, but he seemed to need the continued contact. He snuggled close to you, his head in your shoulder, you raised your chin up so he could curl in closer and you could feel his trembling. You wrapped your arms a little tighter around him and hugged him close, "What's the matter Sealand, you're safe here I won't-"

"I know, I'm worried about Uncle America and Uncle Denmark."

You looked down at him, "Did something happen to them in your nightmare?"

He nodded, "Their countries dissolved, but they weren't lucky like Prussia...they dissolved with the country."

You nodded at him and got up, still holding him close to you, "Well why don't we check on them then, ok?"

He nodded.

Switzerland had separated you all into corridors based off of family; the Nordics in one hall, the FACE family in another, the German family, the Baltics, the Soviets, the Mediterranean's, the Asians, all the families in a the bedrooms circling the outer rim of Switzerland's house. In the center of the entire complex was a section of rooms for the micronations and some of the younger nations like Latvia, Sealand, and Wy. Switzerland seemed to have the concept of a world meeting down to a science, no wonder the meetings normally took place there. He was so organized, and always very generous as far as hospitality went. After all when you went to England's house Canada and America had to share a room, if you were at Russia's you roomed with Belarus or Latvia, sometime Poland if he was there too. You didn't mind staying at Russia's though, true he could be scary sometimes but any nation could. You were more comfortable around any family but your own, yes every family was divided some way but yours seemed to be the worse.

You had grown up in the Mediterranean family, none of you were all that close as of how broken the family had grown. Basically the family was split to the point of no one wanting to see one another and fighting when they did. Half the family didn't even consider themselves a Mediterranean anymore. The Italy's were a sub family that had nearly combined with the Germans. Then there was Spain who had left to take care of Portugal, Cuba, Brazil, and Romano his little colonies. That you understood, in a way. You didn't know why he had to leave you behind, you gladly would have helped Spain considering how close you two had been and how you shared such a bond with Portugal too. Regardless Spain wasn't the only one to cut off close ties with you, over time Hungary had more or less left for the German family, not that you blamed her they were more or less perfect, that left you the only girl. That left you, Egypt, Greece, Turkey, Cyprus, and the Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus. Turkey and Greece had pretty much no relationship, TRNC was always with the micronations, and Egypt and Cyprus looked for any excuse to leave.

Snores pulled you out of your pity party, your eyes drifting to the door next to you. Your shoulders drifted downwards as you remembered the layout Switzerland had set. Your room was right next to Greece, who you were not concerned with waking up by any means, even if he did open his eyes, he was never really all that awake until Turkey was near Japan.

You looked out of your room, checking the hallway before pulling Sealand out of the doorway; you took in a deep breath and hoped no one would hear you. As nice as Switzerland was, he was also very strict, more so than Germany who you trained with. Switzerland didn't like people roaming about the house at night, and he was a very light sleeper, you were sure the policy was mostly because of either the Bad Touch Trio, the Awesome Trio, or the Drunken Trio...so either way it was Prussia's fault somehow. Switzerland would no doubt go completely sideways on you if you woke him, the problem though was that Switzerland's room was very close to yours...and he wasn't the only easily woken combat machine you had to worry about.

Since the rooms were organized by family, each family naturally had to have an end room that connected to the next hallway of families, your room was the border between the German family and the Mediterranean family, meaning Germany was in the room next to you and Switzerland was on the other side of Germany's room. You lightly closed the door and took one step, the floor squeaked, you stopped dead in your tracks, Sealand froze too knowing he had to be quite. You finally took in a deep breath as nothing had happened, then Sealand sneezed, "Sorry," he whispered rubbing his nose. He then clasped his hands over his mouth knowing he shouldn't have spoke.

You waited a second, nothing. You put him down and looked around for the box of tissues, "It's ok sweetie, you feel ok?"

"The Kleenex is on the other table," you jumped at Germany's voice, Sealand looked petrified, you were shocked neither of you had screamed. Having Germany sneak up behind you was terrifying; he was a big guy, a powerful guy, and a serious guy. Germany pulled a few tissues out of the books without moving his feet and kneeled down next to Sealand. You swore Sealand almost whimpered, it was rather uneasy to see Germany coming at you in the dark. You knew everything was fine though, after all Germany hadn't yelled...yet. He helped Sealand blow his nose making a loud trumpet sound, it sounded like the taps for training you would be hearing again in a few hours to start pre-world meeting day two. Germany was careful to make sure he didn't rub Sealand's nose and make it red or chafe it by drying it out, it was a shame he never had his own country to take care of he would have been a very nice parent figure. You sometimes wished that you could have been born into the German family; actually you wished it a lot. You were close with Romania, who was more or less a bonus member to the family like Hungary, and had been friends with Prussia for a long time. Germany, Switzerland, and Liechtenstein had always been kind to you, even Austria had complimented your music abilities and often came to you when he wanted a Mediterranean influence in his compositions without it getting too cliché.

In an odd way it was reassuring to have Germany around he was very commanding but not in a way where you were afraid of him, unless of course it was a surprise or dark, like you sometimes did around some of the other nations. You were sure Switzerland knew you were both up at this point, but since Germany was with you Switzerland had no reason to join the party. Sealand looked less scared and managed a, "Thank you, Mr. Germany," you always thought it was funny that the little sass he was always remembered a Mr. when speaking to the German family, Prussia not included of course since he was more like America and Denmark in Sealand's eyes.

"Not a problem, is everything ok you two?" Germany replied, managing to somehow look both of you in your eyes.

"Yeah," you replied softly, "Sealand had a bad dream."

Germany looked at you sympathetically; he had had many of those himself you knew. He raised an eyebrow, the one you could see but Sealand couldn't. He was asking if they were like his about Prussia dissolving, if he had been Holy Rome, about losing Italy and even Romano, you nodded yes back at him and he nodded back in understanding.

"I'll never understand grownups," Sealand said with a sigh.

"That's ok we're going to go see Denmark."

Sealand laughed and Germany handed you some more tissues before dissolving into a room with a, "Goodnight." You noticed it was two doors over from yours, Switzerland's room. You gave a silent thank you that Germany was defusing that bomb and you didn't have too.


	2. The Lion Sleeps Tonight

"See?"

Sealand nodded as he poked his head into Denmark's room, "Is he still breathing?"

You crept into the room with Sealand behind your back, you could feel his cold fingers on your lower thigh, and you knew what would happen when you got close to Denmark. You put your hand over Sealand's fingers and pulled him in front of you as you knelt down to look in his eyes. It was dark and Denmark's bed was still about four feet away from the two of you, although the door was about five feet away, "I'm going to go check his breathing ok?"

"Can I come with?"

"No," you nearly screamed and much to quickly. He jumped and you smiled, "Stay here ok? Denmark is just a little jumpy when someone gets to close. He's going to pop up and grab my hand probably, but he won't hurt me so don't be afraid alright?"

"You don't need to, _. It's ok, I can see his chest moving up and down. He's breathing."

"You sure, I can-"

"I don't want you hurt, besides I'm more worried about Uncle America...he wasn't the hero this time." You saw the crushed look in his eyes; you knew Sealand saw America more as a hero then even America himself pretended he was. America wasn't really all that self-centered, when he was little he had been told stories by France and England of knights and castles, he had been England's cabin boy, and when Sealand came along he thought he was the best thing ever, well next to Prussia and Denmark. Eventually Sealand wanted to turn the Awesome Trio into a quartet, but he couldn't do that till he was a full nation. That's why he was so driven to become separated from England. For America it wasn't really about living up to the stories in his mind, it was making sure Sealand didn't have to grow up as fast as he had. When America grew up the family fell apart, that's why he would still act childish often; it always got Canada out of trouble and made France and England agree, even if the agreement turned to disappointment or a lecture for him.

You nodded, "Alright, c'mon" you scooped him into your arms and he held on tight to your shoulders, looking back over his hands at Denmark watching him breath, still not completely convinced on the matter.

You closed the door to Denmark's room lightly behind you, his snoring stopped, and you froze, at this rate it might be easier to learn how to live without breathing. You heard movement in his room and you pushed Sealand out of the doorway, you were praying Denmark was only moving around in the bed and not getting up. You tried rationalizing; if he was getting up because he was worried then there wouldn't have been sound, he would have sneaked up on you and you wouldn't know he was up until he had you in his arms. You listened, almost pressing your ear against the door to hear any sound. Nothing. You debated opening it to hear better, you almost did but then you heard sweet relief. You breathed in finally again as he mumbled something about Norway and Iceland before the snoring continued.

You took Sealand's hand, "Come on, kiddo we have four hallways and half of Switzerland's house to get through silently before we get to America's room." Sealand nodded and the two of you began your long walk around the house, you took the long way though because it was safer. You would go past the calmer nations rooms and avoid most of the light sleepers all together, the only real nation you might have to worry about was Romano and he didn't scare you he could be quite nice. Pus it was more likely you would be able to raise Old Fritz by walking around the house than it would be for you to wake Romano, especially if he had spent the night in Spain's room.

Finally you reached America's door, you pushed your ear up against the smooth wood and listened, you heard snoring but it sounded light like America hadn't been asleep for all that long. You pushed the door open and whispered in a hissed voice, "America?"

His toes flinched, it was kind of cute actually, you wanted to giggle but held it in. You stepped into the room and Sealand followed, he tried to take off and run up to America, you held him back briefly. You made the mistake of looking down, his eyes were so reflective, and relieved to see America alive, but they had gotten sad when you denied him. You rolled your eyes and retracted your arm knowing America didn't sleep with a knife or gun under his pillow like some of the other nations.

Sealand took off and pounced on America, whose body jumped up in a response, he sat up straight and nearly crushed Sealand's face into his blanket, "Whoa! Wait, Seal-" you ran forward and covered America's lips with your hand, he raised an eyebrow.

You pointed at the clock and he in turn made two circle with his hands and put them over his eyes, "Oh sorry," you said forgetting he couldn't see that far with his glasses off, "It's two in the morning. England will kill you if you wake him up and France might help him if you interfere with his beauty sleep."

America nodded. You let go of his mouth to find the smile underneath, it must have formed as your hand left because you hadn't felt it under your palm. "You know there was other ways to shut me up," he whispered rather seductively. You punched him, "Ow! Not a good way to keep me quite!"

"Then stop being stupid," you hissed at him.

Sealand was giggling enjoying your little fight, "You guys are really cute together. You sound just like Denmark and Norway when they fight, except that normally ends in a kiss."

"See? Den, knows how to shut someone up properly."

"Something tells me Norge is the one shutting Denmark up."

America shrugged as he grabbed his glasses off of the nightstand near him, "Probably, it's two a.m. I'm not awake enough to make sense," he wiped the glasses on his shirt and slid them on his face.

"So what's the excuse during the day."

"Depends on who's asking."

"He's distracted by-" Sealand started.

America shoved a pillow in his face, "Alright you little beast, what did you come in here for? Other than to use me as a trampoline."

Sealand pouted and lowered the pillow, his hands sounded heavy smacking the feathers, "Well you're not a very good one now are you?" He had completely forgotten what he was going to say, and you had wanted to know badly. You would have to ask later when you took him back to his room.

"Hey I'm a hero, not a trampoline."

"That's actually why we are here," you said.

America looked up at you puzzled, "Tired of only having me save you in your dreams?"

You wanted to slap him because of how right he was. You could feel your face getting red and you hopped he couldn't see it in the dark, you probably would have been fine had he not put his glasses back on and you hadn't tied your hair back, "I'd say I'm going to use you as a trampoline but that sounds like a bad pickup line."

"It sounds like Estonia's favorite one, 'Baby I'll treat you like my homework — I'll slam you on the table and do you all night long' so awkward, glad he's never used it before. Sealand don't even ask me what that means I'll tell you when you're older or you will just ask Latvia later and he'll blush." Sealand blew hair out of his face accepting what he knew to be true. America turned his attention back to you, "So why are you two here?"

"I had a nightmare," Sealand stated flatly trying to not let his voice shake as he remembered what had brought him into your room in the first place.

"What about?" America suddenly sounded serious.

"You and Uncle Denmark, you weren't the hero this time..."

"Was I the villain?"

"No, you were dissolved."

America's face looked bleak for a second before he smiled, "Do you think Dad would ever let that happen? Or Canada?"

"Well no- but."

America hugged him, "It's ok Sealand, it was just a nightmare. I'm still here, and if I'm going to dissolve I'll let you know but I don't think that's going to happen."

"Alright I guess, sorry to wake you up," Sealand started to climb back out of America's bed but America grabbed you both by the hips and pulled you into his bed. Sealand was laying on America stomach and you had your chin almost embedded into his shoulder.

"Hang on now," America said with a smile, "I'm not letting either of you leave unhappy. What kind of a hero would I be if I didn't save the night? How about a story?"

Sealand's eyes relit themselves as he looked at America, "What kind of story?"

"What kind do you want?"

Sealand looked at you, "Can we let the damsel pick? She's in distress too."

America looked at you, his head shifting across his pillow, "She's no damsel she can take care of herself, she's strong, but if she wants she can pick. Everyone get comfortable first though; start thinking of what you want _."

America got up from the bed and you realized how cold you felt without leaning on him, it was odd how smoothly he was able to wriggle out from under both you and Sealand, how it didn't hurt either of you. You sat up and Sealand's fingers coiled around your arm from behind you, your other hand naturally rested on top of his and started to rub his fingers to keep them warm, "What are you thinking?" he asked, "Pirates? Knights? Magic? Princesses? Disney?"

"Disney?" you asked being pulled back into Sealand's eyes, "like the American movie company?"

"Yeah they're America's favorite stories to tell."

"Hum, I didn't know he ever told those."

"He sings them sometimes too, pulls out his guitar and everything! Sometimes Canada, Prussia and Denmark play some of the instruments too. Prussia's really good! He can play everything!"

"How very-" American came back and with blankets in his hands, cutting your curiosity off. He wrapped a small one with Batman and Robin all over it around Sealand and handed you one with a scene from Peter Pan perched on the minute hand on big Ben.

"Peter Pan ok?" he asked rather sincerely, Sealand had already curled up in the Batman and Robin blanket and was all comfortable on America's pillows.

You wish he had wrapped you up too but you replied, "He was my first crush," you gave a blushed smile as you looked down at the boy, even now he was still stunning.

"Aren't you old enough to have had a crush before him?"

"Ok so maybe it was Max Goof."

You could have sworn you heard him mumble something like, "Lucky guys," before you could ask though America continued on, "So what story did you chose? Batman? Avengers? Brothers Grimm? _Hamlet_? _Romeo and Juliet_, _Origin of a Species_?_ The Prince_?" He started listing off books from his shelf.

"How about Lion King?" you cut in.

His eyes lit up, "Well that would require music!"

"America be quite-"

"Sealand how about it? Lion King sound good?"

"Perfect, are you going to wake Canada up to help you?"

"Nah, I don't need to. Let me tell you something about _, Seland," you felt a hand around your waist pull you closer to him and on to his lap. He leaned back, not as deep this time, his shoulders barely under the head board rim. You were laying back on his shoulder like you had before, except now your arm and part of your body over lapped his hip too. He smiled down at you. You couldn't help but smile back at him, he blew hair at your face that had fallen from your messy bun.

Sealand crawled across him, "What is is!?"

America seemed to hear Sealand but didn't move his eyes away from yours, "She's an amazing singer."

"Not really..."

"I can't tell the story without you," he pouted his lower lip extending outwards, he looked like a bulldog.

You looked over to Sealand breaking the stare, between America's eyes and Sealand's you let out a sigh. You extended your arm pulling Sealand closer to you, half on America and half on you. He filled the small crack rather nicely. "Come on then, I can't sing too loudly. You have to be close enough to hear me sing and America tell the story," you couldn't very well say no...after all it had been your request. You were beginning to fear that Sealand wouldn't just stay awake but he would break America's ribs in the process from jumping on them.

You laid your palm on the small of his back and he calmed down and began nuzzling into your neck, your reaction was one of surprise and the act of a flinch turned into an excuse to nuzzle into America's neck. You could feel the buzz in his throat as he laughed, "Hi there."

"You said get comfortable."

He squirmed in a tickling fashion, "I can feel you talking."

"Then it's decided, I shall not be singing."

"No you will, the story begins when you sing. Whenever you're ready."

You looked at him waiting for him to start without your introduction...you knew he wouldn't though and he didn't. You rolled your eyes and took in a sharp deep breath before letting out strong air, Sealand's hair blew into America's, like the wind in _Pocahontas_, and they twirled as you powerfully whispered, "Nants ingonyama bagithi Baba. Sithi uhm ingonyama. Siyo Nqoba. Ingonyama nengw' enamabala." America smiled and came in as a background voice; Sealand meanwhile looked petrified with delight. In a sick way you wished he would have more nightmares so this could happen more often, you felt awful for thinking that though.


	3. The Little Mermaid

"Tell it again?" Sealand asked as America finished the narration and you hummed the last note to the reprise of "Circle of Life".

"Again? I just told it!"

"Oh come on!"

"I'll tell you one more story," America sighed giving in.

"The one about Kovu and Kiara?"

"Nah, this one is a new one, even you haven't heard."

Sealand snorted, "I doubt it."

"Once upon a-"

"Not this! All stories start that way! They're always dreadful!"

"Hey," America snapped, "Have I ever told you a bad story?"

"Well no, but-"

"Then shut up, where was I?"

"The beginning," you said to him.

He nodded, "Right.

Once, upon a pirate ship a young maiden's hair was pulled forward to look into the eyes of her captor. Upon seeing her eyes he let go and stared at the women before him, he recognized her eyes. She pulled away and he crouched to the floor, pulling strands of hair away from her face as furiously as he had moved sand from beaches and drained water from cave bottoms in search of treasure. He knew the women, he thought, he had been sure it was her.

The woman's head was jerked back to him, his hands on her dirty cheeks, 'What is your name?' he demanded of the women.

She spit at him like a camel, 'Amelia of Stark.' he released her.

It was not the women he had been searching years for, the women's life he now held, the cheeks that had rested in his hands were that of her daughter.

Satisfied yet?" America asked glaring at Sealand over his glasses, "Or has my story disappointed you?"

"Your narration interruption has, yes," Sealand said irritated, "Get on with it man."

"Yes, yes alright, alright.

The captain of the ship turned away from the captured women, his cabin boy and first mate taking over the situation.

The first mate spoke first, 'What is a little girl like you doing on a pirate ship stowing away so far from home?'

The cabin boy laughed along with the rest of the men before speaking, 'Shouldn't some brat of noble birth such as yourself be at home playing scales and reciting lessons, practicing her curtsy and shining her beloveds shoes? Lest you not be betrothed already, can't imagine you have what with a temper like that. What man would want you?'

She answered honestly, as it had in fact been one of her lessons, 'I was betrothed once at birth to a young man, but your ship captured him, and pirates hold no prisoners.'

He jabbed back at here, 'Are these tears I see falling from your cheek?'

'They fall from my eyes.'

'Nonetheless, this boy...he meant something to you?'

'Everything.'

'And you came to find us; you came hoping he was still alive...that he was an exception, that someone had made a mistake.'

She looked away.

'Didn't you?'

'Yes,' she answered simply.

'You're pathetic, how stupid can you be?' the cabin boy stepped forward and pulled the girl up to meet his own eyes, his hand around her shoulders, being careful of her tender neck, for she was a women after all. Though he had not recognized her when she spoke her name, the cabin boy recognized her piercing eyes, as the other hand cupped her chin. She was once the girl he was to marry; Amelia, daughter of Duke Andrews and Duchess Charlotte Stark. He let his hand come out from its cupped shape ever so slightly and her shoulder slid through their tips, she dropped. He stood above her, his arms now out an inch and a half wider but still in the same form. She had loved him, and he in return had left.

'Did it hurt?' he asked without looking down, but his tone had grown softer, more sincere.

'What do you care, you let me fall.'

'Not that fall. Did it hurt when you found he was dead, when you proved it to yourself?'

'More than any pain you could ever inflict upon me.'

He thought about how he was lying to her, he wondered if she knew. She couldn't recognize him, he was stronger and dirtier, his hair was bleached from sun and water, he smelled of salt, and his facial hair and matted mop of hair covered most of the features that had defined him. He looked at her, the women he left and questioned how he could do such a thing, but he knew full well how. He had left to give her better, for her to move on to the next suitor, for if he died she could marry whom she wished. It had never once bothered to strike him that she might have actually loved him back. He should have been a jester rather than a pirate, he was a clever idiot.

The captain somehow managed to pull himself together. He turned back around and immediately the first mate pulled the young cabin boy back into line out of his way, 'Take her below and cuff her in chains, I do not wish to find her again on my deck until I figure what to do with her.'

The young boy wanted to call out to prevent such things, but he knew he could not for he was of no use to the maiden if he got thrown into the ocean. He kept his head down but eyes focused on her. She didn't look afraid, but then again the living dead never looked afraid, and she was most certainly walking among them. Two of the larger men on the ship grabbed her, one on each arm and pulled her upward, her head jerked fast but she returned it down. They pushed and pried her forward, pulling at her dress until she disappeared down the decks stairs, she never gave any fight, the boy was sure if the captain had ordered her to she would have walked calmly herself. He hadn't broken her exactly, just smashed the broken pieces into finer dust. Watching her disappear and how the others treated her he vowed to see her, just to be with her so she wasn't alone.

Later in the night he accomplished such a task as he was stationed on guard duty. It had grown to be the late hours of the night and he was beginning to fall asleep, he still had not spoken to her out of fear, what would he say, 'Hey remember me? We were friends as kids and I was supposed to marry you but I faked my death because I thought you didn't love me.' He had to come up with something better, yet not let anyone know he knew her for then she might be doomed. He raised his fist to slam the table in front of him and wake himself up but it stopped inches from the surface as he heard a sound from down the hall. He set his fist down slowly and rose from the table leaning forward. Her cell was around the corner, she didn't want to see him, and he couldn't bear to look at her behind bars.

He held his breath, she was singing, 'Sing softly little mermaids, underneath the waves, pull me to you with your song, let me jump the plank.

Sing softly little sirens, sing your songs of pain, pull me in beside you, to my forever resting place.

Sing softly little fishes, bury me in the sand, lead me to my lover, who I couldn't hold on land.

Sing softly little people, don't dare mourn my death, lie me with my lover, and sing tales of happy end.'

She finished and began repeating the song over and over." You had been playing with Sealand's hair as you both listened to America's story mesmerized by it, his eyes were closed you figured he was imagining the story in full picture since it was normal of him. You were so caught up in Sealand and the story you almost missed the cue America silently gave you. You winked and began singing softly as an accompaniment to his story; you sang it the same way he had earlier. You remembered it so well because you had heard Denmark sing it before, he would sing it when Norway left him alone or they had fought or had been apart for a long time.

You held out the first longer note, singing the song from vocal memory still absorbed in the story, you believed somehow the voice coming out of you was the maiden's voice. America winked back and continued the story, "He listened as her voice rose higher and then dropped lower in pitch, the waver between slightly sharp and slightly flat that her voice created on the longer notes, she sounded the same technically, but it was different. She use to sing as if her voice was sunshine, now she sang from nightmares. He could feel his heart breaking listening to the song that went with the folktale of the town across the huge lake that surrounded Stark. The town named Drake had been named after a man who had been on a journey to meet his love but his boat sunk shortly off of port from a mechanical flaw, his widow upon receiving the news drowned herself in the ocean trying to swim to its base to find him. It was romantic but depressing nonetheless. He spent all night listening to the song, and all night his heart broke-" Sealand let out a weak snore.

"America?" you said sleepily cutting the song off, "He's asleep."

"I figured. Must have really loved the story," he implied sarcastically, so much so you almost missed it from your sleepy induced haze.

"It was a good story, made him want to dream."

America looked at you startled from the compliment, you really must be tired, "You think so? You like it then?"

You nodded, "Only one thing."

"Of course, what is it?"

"You sound like a girl when you tell stories."

His chest rose in a chuckle for a light moment, "I'll pretend that was a compliment."

"You're too tired to remember I said it. You'll forget by morning." You yawned and looked at Sealand who had nuzzled closer and tighter into his blanket. You smiled, "Speaking of tired, I should- I should take him back to his room."

America shrugged his shoulder lightly, you rose up closer to him, "You don't have to, he can stay here in case he wakes up from a bad dream again."

"Thanks," you tried to tell yourself to get up and say goodnight to America, to kiss Sealand's forehead goodnight with light lips, to walk back to your room and curl into your covers and sleep, your body or possibly your heart had other ideas though. You couldn't even open your eyes again and the only movement your body could do was to snuggle in closer to America.

You imagined his face being surprised as he said, "_? Do you wanna sleep over too?" You moved your hand to rest comfortably on his chest over his heart. His voice smiled, "I'll take that as a yes." He moved the blankets so that it covered your shoulder and was laced around your neck. You felt his fingers on the back of your neck as he pulled your hair out from under the covers. "Goodnight _, sleep well and sweet dreams," he whispered.

You couldn't believe you were falling asleep where you were, had you actually sung yourself a lullaby to sleep or did you just not want to leave? You didn't care you were far too tired to think about such matters you would figure it out in the morning perhaps. You began humming the notes of the song in your head and could feel the waves pulling you under. You drifted off to sleep and you were sure you had a smile on your face as your dream eyes fell upon a familiar looking merman.


	4. Before Sunrise

"America, America! Come on! C'mon you and Uncle Denmark promised that-" Sealand's voice stopped with a thunking sound. It had been soft, if he hadn't been smacked you were sure he wouldn't have done more than muffle his yalp.

An arm landed around your waist, you were surprised at how graceful a touchdown it was considering he was tired and his biceps were immense, although he was a quarterback and a pilot...so...You still hadn't opened your eyes as you heard a groan escape America's lips. "Aren't you going to answer him?" you replied shifting slightly away from his shoulder. The fingers on your hip rolled you back though.

"If he woke me up during the night he's a Nordic."

"And if you almost knocked me off the bed with a pillow I'm your problem again," Sealand back sassed, now to his normal self-thanks to the aid of sleep.

"Your brother wants you," half groaned half sung from daze.

"Before noon he's Australia's brother."

"C'mon!" Sealand had seemed to recover and was now rocking America back and forth by pushing and pulling on his back. Naturally, since America had both of his arms around you in a grip similar to the one a person has on a rail when they are seasick, you rocked too.

"Stop moving! Or I'll...I'll," you couldn't even be bothered to finish your threat. It stopped, you immediately felt America pull you back to your previous place of right under his chin. You were very happy he did.

"You made a promise, I thought you were a hero," Sealand's voice cracked and you thought of the nightmare that had brought you here in the first place.

"I am," America replied, suddenly clearer. He almost moved away, a crack developing between you too. You could feel the cold seep into your bones and he must have felt it too because he immediately came back. He offered, "but with great power comes great need to take a nap," as an excuse.

Not that you didn't agree, however there was an objection, "What ever happened to responsible?" Your eyes flew open as you and America flew apart. He leaped off the bed one way, you the other. Somehow neither of you hit Sealand, though at the moment it wasn't your main concern. Egypt spoke again, "Tisk, tisk, not a very brave hero either. Greece will be very disappointed with you sister dearest."

"I hate you."

"I'm sure you do, considering I was interrupting."

"Nothing happened!" Both you and America screamed out.

"Of course," he showed his slick, and rare, grin. Egypt looked like he had been heading to the shower; a towel over his shoulder, shampoo in hand, head piece off. That stupid head piece that would have hid his stupid grin, "I'm sure Turkey will see it that way," and like any man wise enough to know he was stupid, he ran.

America kicked the box at the foot of his bed and it opened to reveal water guns, smoke bombs, duct tape, warrior paint, camo outfits, and everything else the Awesome Trio used for their pranks.

"A whole trunk?"

"Never leave home without it," he pulled out a spray can and tossed it. You caught it above Sealand's outreached hands, "Join me?

"Switzerland's going to kill me…" you sighed.

His eyes lit up, "So you're in?"

You shook the can, "Can we get Austria and Denmark too?"

"If we run fast enough to cheat death, yes."


	5. Jeepers, Mister

"I'm surprised you're up brother, it's kind of early," you smiled widely at your brother Greece who had pinned America down into the carpet. He seemed to be smiling from a little excitement, something to keep him up.

"You came running into my room screaming, what did you expect?"

"A two hour delay?" America mumbled.

Greece gave a slight twist to his wrist, "Departure will be on time."

"Lovely."

"Why did you come running in here anyway?"

"Egypt," you both spat.

"Closet," Greece nodded.

"GREECE!" Egypt screamed and you pounced on top of him, rolling to the floor.

"Gotcha!" You cried in triumph.

"Congrats," America said spitting out carpet, "Now wanna help me out?"

"Pff, what kind of a hero needs help?"

"Any hero with a sidekick?"

"Ask Sealand, because I am sure as heck not your sidekick," you immediately looked down at Egypt, "and don't you even make a comment on that or you will be the newest ancient."

Egypt gave a gulp, "I should have ran faster."

Greece laughed, "Yes but then you would need to be athletic."

"Shut up, Greece."

"Oh brother, you are in no position to make me turn on you as well."

"Ohhh someone is cranky this morning. What would Austria say if he heard you talking like that?" You asked Egypt, thinking of the lessons Austria had given you all in proper speech.

"Austria is the least of my worries right now. Besides I am butchering English not a Austrian masterpiece."

Greece made a tisk tisk sound, one that reminded you of France, "Brother, really you should try to make more friends. Your fate is in my hands."

America blew his flip out of his face, "Hey Greece, I thought you guys believed a man could not control his fate?"

"This is true, America. You actually got a cultural reference right. Congrats…." Greece carried off being bored and falling asleep.

"Do you mind?" you asked Egypt pointing to the towel that was by his arms.

"By all means be my guest."

"Thanks," you threw it at your brother waking him up.

"What?" Greece stumbled.

"Fate, dude." America jogged his memory.

"Ah yes, fate. The flaw in your logic though is that I am no mere man, and it is not my fate I hold."

"Well in that case," America said, "Mind helping a brothers fate out and pushing my glasses back up?"

"Do not call me a bro."

"Aye aye Thor."

You almost lost is as you muttered to yourself, "Doth Turkey know you wearith his drapes."

America flashed a smile hearing the comment, Greece meanwhile was almost asleep again. "So," you said to Greece, throwing a pillow. He woke again, "We seem to be at an impasse with one another brother. I have something you want and you have something I want."

"Hardly, you could keep Egypt, and I can't stand America."

"Well that was an easy hostage negotiation," America mumbled a little hurt.

"You are officially the worst sibling ever," Egypt said sounding more like Poland at this point.

"That is doubtful," came a very articulate voice in the doorway, you were only aware of two nations that spoke such flawless English.

America rolled his eyes, "I hate doorways."

"Hum, and I hate always having to come to your rescue," England replied.

You smiled at the older nation, "I could take over for a while."

England looked at you warmly, then he looked to Sealand and America offering a polite laugh seeing America's face in the carpet, "I must admit, you are doing a rather splendid job all on your own. Is the deal just for America, or will you take Sealand too."

"Hum, throw in Canada and you've got yourself a deal."

"France is not going to be pleased."

America muffled something into the carpet. Everyone turned to look at him, "What?" Greece asked.

Sealand rolled his eyes and translated, "France is never happy with England, it really doesn't matter."

England turned his head sideways a little, "He does have a point."

Egypt snickered, "Ha well done sister, quite the line of suitors for you."

You smiled at Britain, "I come with splendid dowry I might add, Greece just sold me an Egyptian."

Egypt looked mortified, "You wouldn't."

"Oh not I brother dearest, but a nation so magical and powerful as Britain? I'm sure even he could break your spirit."

"I hate my family."

"I don't think I could stand an Egypt," England moaned, "He sounds to much like America in his current state."

"Love you too," America mumbled, "Hey Greece?"

Greece's eyes opened and he looked down at America, "Yes?"

"Mind not crushing a brot- crushing my fate under the muscles and letting me up? Release me to the will of the Fates?"

Greece laughed as he stood up pulling America by the shoulders, "You are an ignorant nation. You should have stayed in my hands, at least I would have given you a chance with- well you know." Greece struck the area America's heart should be, "Fate won't be as kind." Greece's arms still hadn't left America's shoulders, "Are you sure this is what you desire?"

America's eyes darted but then he smiled nervously, "Your stories say a man's fate gets worse if he tries to avoid it. I'll take my chances."

Greece looked at Egypt as his hand lifted, Greece gave a small nod.

"I stand corrected," Egypt sounded surprised.

You laughed, confused by the actions, "You can't stand."

"About that," Egypt started.


	6. I Can See What's Happening

You sat back on America's bed now, after having agreed to free your brother. Greece had released America, and naturally gone back to bed…you think he made it back to the bed, it didn't really matter though, he could fall asleep anywhere. England had taken Sealand off to find Denmark, as Sealand was still a little worried about him from last night. That left you and America back in his room to clean up. You had the Peter Pan blanket corner in your hand, you played at the fuzz that was the clock face of the tower. You started to talk, "We're lucky your father-"

America looked up from the base of the bed, he sat Indian style on the floor. His eyes lingered over the ridge of his glasses as he spoke, "Brother," America corrected, "He's more of a brother, a pain in the ass but a brother."

"Sounds like a brother to me."

"That's how you define all your brothers?"

You thought about it, "As of late Egypt, Greece, and Turkey yes. Cyprus and I have always been fine though."

America smiled, "There's a difference."

You thought back to your own mother, America was right, there was a very distinct difference. You nodded, "Right. Regardless of his title, we are lucky that it was Britain to come in and not Switzerland."

"Can you toss me the spray paint?" America asked as he returned back to his trunk. You wondered if he even heard the statement.

You tossed the can over along with the bag of glitter bombs, "You're avoiding it." You responded, since he hadn't.

"Am not, I am just fixing my trunk. Besides what should I say? Switzerland would have been worse to deal with? You couldn't have negotiated him down like Greece? Yeah okay there you go. Switzerland is scary."

"Even for a hero?" You sounded like Sealand in the question, though you didn't fear the answer. You knew that courage was not simply the lack of fear.

"Oh hell yes, but that's not the point and you are not Sealand," Clearly America had mind reading powers along with his strength, probably a side effect from the magic opposed to the cooking.

"So I've noticed."

"Though you are sassy like him."

"Tell me does he get that from you or from England?"

America frowned for a brief moment but retorted with, "Do you get it from Egypt or Turkey? I'd say Greece but he's always asleep," his cocky smile plastered back on his face. You hated that you thought it was charming instead of cocky.

"Cute."

"I prefer hot or sexy, but thank you none the less."

"France, you get it from France," You rolled your eyes, now you felt like you where England.

America flashed a smile, "And you love me regardless."

You almost froze up, but you pushed forward a sentence in an effort to keep your face from turning pink, "Switzerland seems to like France much more then you."

"Hahaha that's because I take after France too much, I'm all his trio personalities." You rolled your eyes, he took notice, "What? You liked them last night."

You punched his shoulder, "Don't say things like that! They sound so-"

"Dirty? That's the point. Like you said, I'm just like France. He'd be so proud of me!"

"No Prussia is supposed to be the pervert. You are neither though. You are a terrible person."

"Nation," America corrected. It was a correction you commonly got, that one and the brother father relationship one. To you it was the difference of doctor and mister or misses. Nation was seen as an upgrade, but in fact at a basic level every representative was a person. That's how they all started anyway as humans, citizens of their own countries, or as their parent countries before leading revolutions. It was a cycle, you started as your own person and you grew to be the people. Things where don in that way so that each nation could be garneted a childhood without the weight of a curse.

"No, I mean Alfred F. Jones." America stared at you and blinked a few times. "What?" You asked, the question you could almost see being reflected off of his glasses.

"Nothing," He said looking up at you, "I just haven't heard that name in a while. Not since the revolution." America suddenly became dazed and far off, probably going into one of his flashbacks again. You always wondered what it was he saw when he went into his trances. You wondered if they were flashbacks or more like PTSD. You hated when you where the one to cause it. Yours where always painful and you hadn't nearly been through something as traumatizing as America's revolution and independence from England. It had happened back in the late 1700's and the family still wasn't the same. Especially France and England….actually Britain wasn't the same with anyone.

America came out of his trance though and pulled you to the floor. Most people would think he had used the glazed look as a cover, but you knew the cover was the action not the glaze. He held you by your waist and you laughed not even bothering to kick and squeal, your way of pretending to be an annoying damsel in distress. "Although, I'm sure you just think I'm an awful nation because we never made it to Denmark's room."

You nodded, "And you owe me for that."

Yet again the doorway sounded, "I think that, perhaps that could be arranged."

You looked to find Switzerland standing there, he seemed oddly relaxed even. His beret was off and his hair hung as straight as his sisters, his uniform jacket had long since been peeled away to revel his arms that hung out of his tank top, scars and all. His shoes had been unlaced and peeled off as if they lay by the door in fumes after a long day of work. His face looked like it had a smile lingering behind it, as if it had only been recently replaced by a serious look. You thought about how just last night you had been standing there, looking in on America. You thought about how Germany had caught you off guard, the brothers where so alike.

America looked from you to Switzerland, "Do explain."

"Vell, I thought that perhaps if I gave you permission to do something stupid you vould repay me by not destroying my house. And since I never do it, the fun vouldn't been taken."

You thought America was going to burst from excitement, "I'll make everything up to you at the part tonight."

"Bringing your trunk?" you asked thinking of all the fun you could have with it and all the stupid things Prussia could do with it.

"Heck yeah! It's got everything you could possibly want!"

"Does it have breakfast?" You asked as your stomach rumbled, America laughing lightly as he felt it in his fingertips.

"Come to think of it….I think I have some scones. Made stale so they never go stale, it's the logo on the box," America snickered.

"Oh Jammy Dodger," you said the cookie brand as if it was a swear.

America laughed, "Your accent is getting better." You wanted to ask if he still had his, if the way he talked was natural or a cover up, but you didn't want to send him into a flashback trance thing again.

You chose, "Do they come with tea?" instead though.

"Ironically, no. I have no tea maker, not even Kinder chocolate. Just scones and china plate."

"I was hoping for more of a hot coco maker, or a waffle iron."

America pondered for a moment, "I think that's in Mattie's trunk. And conveniently, his room is not far from Denmark's."

You smiled standing up, "Well in that case, we have quite a party to plan then doesn't we?"

Switzerland nodded in approval, "It must pass by the commander's desk first."

You heard it in your head before it came out, "A hero doesn't take orders!" America called playing it up for Switzerland.

"The hero should be happy Fury gave him a classified file."

You snickered, "Welcome to clearance level 7."

America stared, "Coulson. That's your code name!"

"Sure thing cap," your eyes rolled.

America nudged me, "Watching me while I slept again?"

You punched him, "I hate you."

He smiled, and Switzerland sighed, "Just get my final approval on it America? And by America I mean _ make sure you get it approved."

You gave a salute and smiled, "Yes, sir Switzerland sir."

"Wait," America stared, his eyes twisting behind his glasses, "So I have to submit like a formal battle plan?"

"You could think of it as a play, like in football," Switzerland tried.

America collapsed, his back pressed to the floor, "I hate work."

You looked at Switzerland, "It'll be on your desk."

"Thank you."

"Oh one more thing, do you have any coffee?"

"Yes there is some in the-"

"Is it Dunkin'?" America sat up, "Because I run on Dunkin'!"

Switzerland sighed, "Good luck."

You nodded knowing you'd need it.


	7. What's A Motto With You?

It had taken you three hours, a bribe of Canadian syrup, two vials of pixie dust, a dance off, and a debt to France but you got the plans approved for the party, and for, more importantly, the prank. Everything was set, now you just needed to meet with the committee of set up. You have no idea how it got picked but you ended up with Romania, Norway, England, Germany, France, Spain, Iceland, Hong Kong, and America. Things would be interesting to say the least.

The magic trio was running around casting spells for decoration and amusement, of course once that was decided Iceland and Hong Kong kindly insisted upon their expert fashion advice to coordinate the part themes and concept. You trusted them, most of the time at least. You knew between Norway and England things wouldn't get to out of hand. This actually seemed to be working well though, everyone had seemed to fall into a rhythm. I mean how bad could it be? You hadn't heard, "Would you put that down you bloody idjit!" or "No we are not using leopard on zebra!" or any other complaints of the color scheme or theme in a while now.

"A little more to the left," you heard Iceland say. You could imagine his gestures, every single one purposeful no extra movement, all of it flowing perfectly. Just like Norway.

"How far to the left?" Norway asked, probably not wanting to have to go back and froth to the left.

"Hong, how far over should we go? Probably only about half an inch."

"Half an inch?!" Hong Kong called, "What are you trying to do throw off the entire feng shui of the room?"

You could identify the facepalm from a mile away, England, "Oh bloody hell if I have to move that blessed crystal ball one more time because you throw off his feng shui, Iceland I will smash the thing over your head."

Norway offered a chuckle, and Romania completely lost it.

You could hear the eye roll in Iceland's voice, "That is why I was asking for your measurements. I would hate to upset you." The sarcasm the nation was able to string into a single sentence always surprised you.

"Three millimeters. Exactly."

"Are you serious?" Norway replied.

"CAREFUL, would you pay attention Norge you're going to drop the bloody thing on the floor! And then I will really have to hear about his feng shui," England called, probably taking over the magic.

"Well why don't you do it, he is your kid."

"He's your brothers boyfriend!"

"I hate this," Iceland moaned, "Would you mind, Romania?"

"Not at all," Romania beamed, "Three millimeters? No problem."

You waited a moment.

"Perfect," Hong Kong said, and nothing was even sarcastic. You smiled for the nation.

"I know I am," Romania gave his natural cocky response, probably twirling his wand along with it.

"Smashing, moving on," England replied, "What about this?"

Yep everything seemed fine after all. At least it did in that section of the house.

Meanwhile, France and Spain where in the kitchen cooking like mad. Even in another room you could hear them running around; stirs in pots, flower powdering into clouds, scrapes on metal, fire from the oven and heat. You heard demands in French, "Non you fool. This is Havarti not Gouda! Immedicable, it's like trying to communicate the fine art of culinary to the blasted sheep."

Then screams of Italian, "How dare you compare me to that uncultured bastard? He doesn't even know what salt and pepper is, let alone rosemary and basil. Maybe if your accent wasn't so hard to understand or if you would just stick to mozzarella, we wouldn't have such a problem."

Then of course came the curses Spanish, "Ay, Dios mios. France, mi amigo I beg of you. Do not start this this with Roma again? You know how he gets. Todos tiempos en la cocina, siempre cocinamos. Siempre es la misma lucha. Nunca es nuevo. ¿Por qué estoy yo siempre en el medio?"

"English!" France called, "How am I suppose to understand you when you go on a Spanish tangent?"

"You always talk in French to Canada."

"Huh? Don't pull me into this," Canada said as if he was pulled out of his cooking daze.

"What does that have to do with it? Spanish and Italian are two separate languages!" France screamed.

You thought you were going to have to go in when suddenly you heard a very loud, "HEY EVERYONE!" America, it couldn't be anyone else. "What's a motto, bro?"

"Nothing, what's a motto with you?" Canada replied.

The bomb was instantly defused; you managed a large smile at the thought of your hero knowing he saved the day for you. Things always got bad in the kitchen. France and Canada where fine in the kitchen they knew each other better and could speak in any language to one another, France and Romano where fine even they both loved food to much to fight, France and Spain where fine food had always strengthened their friendship never complicated it, France and Italy where fine too though that scene was more silent as they both would get intense about their work. No, no none of that was the problem, not France or Spain or Romano, the problem was all of them together. Normally you would pull someone out, but you were glad they all joined in on the mess. It was overall a good idea especially since there was such a large amount of food and such a large range of food that needed to be made.

You started to walk back into the other room, hoping Iceland and Hong Kong hadn't gotten to out of control. Your mind started to wonder and you thought back to the committee. You were wondering where Germany was. He had originally been commissioned as someone to help make sure America didn't get too overwhelmed and out of control, although when he wasn't on time for the meeting you knew something was up. America must have left the kitchen because suddenly you heard a call from France for more pots, you ran off in the direction being pulled towards it and out of your worry.

You stopped when you heard Canada actually scream, "God bless it Switzerland, you have all the worlds' money and you can't even buy a third oven!" You inhaled sharply and all you got was a deep scent of maple syrup. You chuckled lightly, trying to keep yourself composed.

"You'll have to turn ze vents on, can't let Denmark and Prussia smell the syrup. Assuming America has not taken it all fer himself. "

You jumped at the sound of Germany's voice, it seriously freaked you out when he spoke so softly and suddenly, "Dang it, Germany! Why do you have to do that?"

"I apologize."

"Why are you so late? I've felt like Austria conducting a fifth year band concert."

Germany shuddered at the thought, "I apologize again."

"Don't be sorry, just is everything ok?"

He nodded, "Fer me? Ja. You have an appointment though."

"Switzerland?" you raised an eyebrow.

"Ja, he's in his office. Now vould be ze best time."

"Are you willing to be the SO for everything and everyone then while I'm gone?"

He nodded again, "Vill do." You smiled at him as wide as you could. Germany looked extremely puzzled, he had to be used to smiles though between Prussia and Italy. He raised an eyebrow at you, "You do know of mein brother, ja? I speak of Switzerland not Prussia. Most people are not so," he paused thinking of the kindest word, "eager. To see him."

You continued your smile, "Oh no I am terrified, don't worry. I'm smiling to thank you though."

Germany glanced behind you trying to peer into the kitchen, "I promised I vould look after them, I never said I vould not kill them."

You laughed, "I'm okay with that actually, well most of them."

"I'll shall make sure to keep America alive."

You stared at him, even he knew, "Do you always know everything, Germany?"

"My English has become some vhat rusty."

"That's not what I meant."

Germany made a small thinking sound, "Perhaps my sarcasm is slipping too."

Did Germany just make a joke? You softened and for some reason you stepped forward and hugged him. You felt him flex his muscles out of surprise for the sudden personal contact. Eventually you felt his one hand rest lightly on your back, but you could feel how rigid it was. The movement was unnatural and his face still hung in surprise. You squeezed his shoulders trying to get him to relax, "Thank you, Germany. I didn't mean about keeping them all in line."

Germany took a small stepped back and studied you, "Vhat did you mean zen?"

"Yesterday, er well last night with Sealand. It really meant a lot to him and to me, you would be a really good parent nation. Your brothers and your sister are lucky to have you, so is Italy."

He gave you a small smile, "Maybe you should inform Romano."

You laughed at his light joke, "I'll see what I can do, but it will have to wait until after I visit Switzerland, I've kept him waiting long enough."

Germany nodded, "Best of luck." You nodded and turned to leave, but Germany caught you and pulled you into a quick hug, "Thank you."

It was your turn to be surprised by the contact. You had never been very close with Germany, but you knew enough about him to know he wasn't exactly the hugging clingy type. You understood though, you got the thank you and what it meant. You smiled and hugged him back, "You're welcome."

The two of you parted and Germany looked almost embarrassed, you still had a smile, "Sorry."

"Don't be, I'm the one that should be. I'm thanking you-" you were cut off with the sound of food flying in the kitchen.

"You bastard! How dare you question my spices?" Romano screamed.

"Now mon amie, Canada was merely saying that-" France tried to but in.

"Don't you touch me, frog! This kitchen is mine."

"I thought it was Prussia and Germany's normally…." Canada said meekly.

Something was flung again, and Frances temper rose, "Je t'emmerde!"

"This isn't good," you said to Germany, "France is swearing in French now." America had definitely left the kitchen, possibly the building.

Germany nodded, "I'll take care of it, go see Switzerland. It'll keep him out of ze kitchen."

You nodded and both of you took off running in difference directions. Germany ran to the kitchen bursting the doors open, and you running to Switzerland's office to run interference.


	8. The Past Can Hurt

You stopped outside of the door for a minute catching your breath; you had sprinted down half the house and across Switzerland only knew how many cases of stairs. You looked down at your watch, thirty-five seconds flat. Not a bad time, though your lungs seemed to disagree. You had to take it so fast, you couldn't risk Switzerland walking downstairs to the kitchen and seeing the mess, you couldn't risk the yelling, you couldn't risk the cancelation of the party or the plan. Not after everything you had gone through to get it approved. You were leaning over your knees, using them as support. You slowly stood, and as you did you noticed your hair was running around wild and lose from its pony tail. You ran your fingers through the clusters of knots and tried to wrangle in the wisped off pieces. You felt your fingers slip into ties you had learned in training and scouts. Finally the normal sleekness returned. You prayed for no bubbles as you finished getting yourself composed quickly. You took one more deep breath before tapping your knuckles on the door. It flew open immediately.

You let out a small sequel, you hated that Switzerland had that effect on you…even though he had that effect on most nations. It always made you sound like such a girl, you were tough and could beat most of the guys in battle! You are no chicken you reminded yourself as a pep talk. You can do this. You straightened up but your voice seemed to have other ideas as it faltered and stuttered, "Umm…Ah, h-hi Switzerland."

He looked down at you and gave his usual nod. The one that was polite yet mysterious gave no inclination of the conversation and made you feel relaxed but paranoid. You despised it when he nodded. Regardless of your feelings though he then gestured with an open arm but stiff arm to come in.

You had known Switzerland much longer than any of the other Germans, what with his sister being one of the only other female nations. Regardless of how long you knew him though you knew him probably the least when it came to personality. Most likely because he never showed his personality to anyone, and that was saying something he was related to Germany and Sweden after all. You stared at him trying to read him, looking for clues, nothing. You could never get anything from him; it was one of his safe locks. If you can't read, you can't analyze, you can't predict, you can't know what he's up to, you can't beat him. It was incredibly brilliant, and also incredibly annoying.

"You, ah wanted to talk to me about something?" You hated how your voice sounded around him, you wish you had your hero with you.

Switzerland nodded, "About your plan."

You jumped at it, "Is something wrong? Is there a typo? Did I forget a comma? Are you revoking it? I thought it was approved? You did approve it right? I wasn't dreaming right? Oh my gosh, I am so sorry! I didn't-"

His glove covered your mouth, you raised an eyebrow Switzerland wasn't much of a touchy kind of guy unless it involved a gun. He spoke very evenly, "I raised my hand, I tried to shhh you, this was the next logical thing to do."

You nodded.

"You are not in any trouble, I had but a simple question," he uncurled his fingers from your lips.

"Well if it was so simple why did you have to go about it like we were preparing for the third world war."

Switzerland flinched at that, it was the only time Switzerland really ever showed a flicker of weakness. The flinch made you want to throw up after sparing yourself. You were so mad at yourself for daring to say the words. The war was a sore subject to him; one of his brothers was no longer a country and the other went insane then they were separated from one another by a wall Russia had built straight through Germany. It had been a terrifying period of war followed by a painful twenty-eight whole years. Switzerland may not have been the closest and warmest with his family, but even you knew how unconditionally he loved them.

The flinch, the pain you gave him you had to imagine was awful. It was a slap that sent him back to the time, made flashbacks. It was nearly the equivalent to the fourth of July being mentioned around great Brittan. Dang it! First, you had slip up with America and called him by his human name, Alfred, which reminded him of the Revolutionary War. You might as well bring up February 25th, 1947 to Prussia because being dissolved as a country wasn't painful enough the first time. Or perhaps January 7th, 1814 to Denmark because it was bad enough to lose Norway let alone lose him to Sweden. Or how about reminding France and Canada of the day they were separated by signing the 1763 Treaty of Paris?

Honestly how soulless could you be? What was making you bring all these events up? You wanted to facepalm so hard, enough to kill all your brain cells then you could at least get away with not knowing any better. But you did, you knew better than most nations. You had known Switzerland for so long and you were connected by your flashbacks, just as you were with America. Although at the moment something else seemed to connect you what with your soul matching the personality Switzerland normally showed.

"Switzerland, I'm so sorry-"

He held up a hand, this time you caught it and stopped talking, "It is fine, you did not mean anything by it. It vas a slip. We all have events that have caused….issues."

"Still, I didn't mean too. It was reckless and I should know better." Ironically your voice seemed strongest then, most likely because this was the only part of the conversation when you could read him, when you knew what was going on….all because of a stupid slip and a flinch. "I know how much it can hurt."

The flinch had vanished though, the pain and a flashback no longer lingering on his face. The lock was shut, the key was turned, and the book was closed he was just as impossible to read as ever now, "Oh _yes, the past can hurt__._ But the way I see it, you _can_ either run from it, or... learn from it."

"You're Rafiki now?"

He nodded, "Everyone thinks I'm crazy yet I know everything. Seemed to fit."

"Your past is as mysterious as his."

"Yours is no different than Simba's, assuming we vant to stay with this metaphor."

Simba, king of pride rock after the death of his father at the hands of his brother. Flashes came of your mom, you thought of Greece's mom, and of Egypt's mom flashes of your pride and of how strong it had once been. You thought about the problems with Germania, with Rome, and with Turkey. You thought of Russia taking over and running interference. You nodded and forced yourself to focused on Switzerland to avoid having your own flashbacks go any deeper than the faces, "What was your question?"

He took a breath and swallowed heavily, "I just wanted to make sure that Prussia is not hurt," he paused lightly and then seemed to rush in trying to add or finish a statement, like he had forgotten a line he was supposed to have memorized, "And you stay away from Austria's piano."

You wanted to facepalm even harder now, of course it would be concern for his brothers! Great especially after you just triggered flashbacks. You where such an idiot you wish you could disappear like Canada. Not that it would do you any good with Switzerland, Switzerland could find him anywhere, the nation never missed anything with his fine-tuned eyesight for shooting and battle. It was almost irritating how perfect the entire family was. Perfect, so different from your own family.

You blinked avoiding your own trigger of a flashback, "Of course, I would not want to cause you any additional trouble."

Switzerland did something unexpected then, he gave you a small smile. He didn't try to hide it, and it lingered instead of vanishing. "Thank you."

You couldn't help but smile, his was so contagious you just had to, "You have a never nice smile, Switzerland. You should use it more often."

His eyes seem to soften as the corners inched slightly upward, he offered a polite and not in the least sarcastic chuckle, "I shall keep it in mind."

You nodded, "If that is all, I should be getting back to Germany…I left him with everyone else and well…"

Switzerland nodded in agreement, "Go make sure my kitchen gets cleaned up."

You stared at him, "You know everything!"

He winked, "It's a talent."

The German family sure does seem to have a lot of them, you thought. However, they did not nearly have as many talents as they had surprises since they seemed to be unleashing the entire bag of tricks on you today. What was next? Austria had a tattoo he got when Prussia let him drink too much? You rolled your eyes, if he did it would probably be a score for Beethoven's 8th Symphony.

You had to admit as you left, closing the door behind you, after that conversation Switzerland almost seemed like he had an actual personality. He seemed more relaxed not as hard to read, less mysterious. You smiled; you could see how good of a brother he really was. You use to think he was possessive and paranoid about Liechtenstein but now you understood it. It had only gotten so bad after Prussia was no longer a country, after Switzerland lost two of his brothers. After he realized he couldn't control them and couldn't keep them from breaking, he couldn't keep them safe. You decided the German family was even more exceptional then you though, there perfection knew no bounds. You walked towards the kitchen trying to keep your food down. The sweetness of the family nearly made you throw up, you weren't sure you would be able to look at Germany let alone talk to him.


	9. The Greater Good

You stepped into the kitchen and instantly regretted it. Now you were a nation use to combat, use to even play fighting what with the family you had. That all being said, you knew for a fact you had never been smacked in the face with a potato before. You weren't exactly sure if you were happy the potato had already been softened in hot water; on the upside it was softer and hurt a ton less, on the down side you had hot potato and hot water blended and smashed into your face. You stood there, one hand still holding the kitchen door open, your eyes shut. You didn't know who smacked you with the potato but regardless of whom it was there would be hell to pay.

Everything was frozen.

Finally you heard a whisper, "Fuck," America's favorite word.

"Hush you fool," Canada called.

"She has potato on her face you dunce, it's not like a horror movie where if you keep still they won't see you!"

"It feels like a horror film waiting," Romano gulped.

"I told you to let me throw it! I have the better arm!" America said, the voice changing in volume he must have turned to face Romano, "But no you never listen! You must be the one to pelt the potato bastard."

"Shut up! And don't you dare speak in an Italian accent again!"

"Why because I sound hotter than you?"

"Yes, your constant drop of pronouns and lack of sentence structure is incredibly appealing."

"Explains why the hero always gets the girl, and you get rescued by the Spaniard."

"Why you-" you could imagine Romano lunging for America and America pulling a come at me bro stance.

"Enough!" You stopped, your voice had echoed.

The echo continued, "America, vhat do you think you are doing? Do you vant my brother to cancel this?" Germany, apparently he always had your back.

He seemed to have it for now, you whipped Potato from your eyes and opened them. It was still all over your face and you felt ridiculous but you tried to let the rage you held bake the potato off.

America replied, "No, I don't. But it wasn't my fault, Romano started throwing food at France and well you know how he gets when his hair is messed up."

Germany stared down France, Romano, and America. "What?" Romano broke.

"France go take a shower, one under 20 minutes."

"But my conditioner-"

"Papa, s'il vous plaît juste l'écouter. Vos cheveux seront très bien, allez s'il vous plaît? Now, please," Canada said. You had never heard the nation sound so firm in what he was saying. You actually saw how Canada could be related to his family. Canada reeked confidence in a way you had only seen few other nations do. He looked as intimidating as the Netherlands, or Switzerland, even Germany. You found yourself staring at him.

France replied lightly as if he was use to his family yelling at him, at least in the area of wasting water in a shower, "Bien, bien que vous le souhaitez, mon cher."

You really wished you could speak French. You had learned Spanish and Italian, along with German and English, other than that you spoke Turkish or Arabic like the rest of your family. You stared at both Romano and Spain, daring them with your glare to challenge France for speaking French with his son. Romano opened his mouth, "Si dices una cosa mala para Francia, tú o España, te voy a matar. ¿Me entiendes?

You chose to say it in Spanish because you knew Germany knew Italian and you didn't want to confuse him as he was addressing Canada, as to what exactly had happened. Plus you knew, whether Romano wanted to admit it or not, he spoke fluent Spanish. You turned to America, "Not a word from you either."

All three of them nodded. Spain then began to speak, "Would you like a towel?" You nodded and Spain stepped forward, he looked at your hair and made a face. "Perhaps, you would like me to help amiga?"

You nodded, "Gracias, España."

"No es una problema, chica. De nada."

"I appreciate it though."

Spain laughed, "I appreciate you not murdering my language like señor England."

You smiled as he whipped the now mashed potato away from your eyes, "England butchers every language, especially French."

Spain rolled his eyes, "Dios mios, I know. You should hear Francis rant about it."

"Unfortunately," Canada said clearing his throat, "We don't have the time. Romano you're on probation and clean up. The rest of you, we are down a man so start cooking. You can join us when you are done Romano." Romano looked irritated but did not argue, he picked up a mop and began scrubbing frustrated at the floor. "Excellent."

"Do you need assistance, Canada?" Germany asked. "Romano is never happy when I cook, but I am sure I could stir or chop something and not cause too much damage."

Canada nodded and glared at Romano, who kept quiet, then Canada turned to Germany with a smile, "That would be much appreciated."

You looked up at Canada, with Spain still pulling potato out of your hair, "I don't suppose I could borrow America?"

Canada laughed, "I think having him and Germany in the kitchen would push Romano to far, by all means take him."

Romano let out a sigh of happiness, almost it was more relief. He had grown use to the Germans; however he was not use to greasy fast food or fake ravioli, let alone microwave lasagna. Canada gave a wink to America, "Well go on lad, didn't dad teach you anything? You never leave a lady waiting."

America rolled his eyes, "Are you talking about the stuck up gentleman one that doesn't believe in kissing a lady till you have asked her to dance, or the gooey love struck Frenchman who gave us lessons on edict and chivalry till we gained independence?"

Canada laughed, "Knowing you, probably the second less strict you know."

America pushed past Canada, making it a point to push his face away from him and cover his mouth. He held out a hand like an English gentleman, "Shall I escort thy lady to the next room where we might converse in peace? Or would one prefer the company of the dearest brother of mine?"

You grabbed his shirt collar and winked at him, "Shame I was hoping for French not English."

Canada laughed without missing a beat, "You picked the wrong half of North America then."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"ALRIGHT! I WILL NOT STAND FOR THIS!" America grabbed you by the waist and hoisted you up over his shoulder.

"What is this?"

"You're a damsel and Canada is giving me distress."

"You're evenings in danger," Germany reminded him rather serious.

You smiled widely, and pounded a fist on America's back dramatically; "You tell me where my suit is woman!" you nearly lost it and almost couldn't finish. The thought of Germany as a dainty damsel in distress was just too much, "We are talking about the greater good!"

"Greater good?" America said shocked, "I am your hero, I am the greatest good you are ever gonna get!" and with that America took his opportunity to pull you into the other room and leave the kitchen alone.


	10. Tired of your Emotional Constipation

America threw you down on the couch and you bounced a little from the overly stuffed fluff of the cushions. You giggled, "Well that wasn't very gentleman like."

"Oh like you've ever cared," America brushed off the comment knowing he was right. He was always right, it was almost irritating. It wasn't the same kind of know it all as the German brothers, they were observant and stealthy. America could just read you like a book, well most of the book anyway. He seemed to miss any confession you ever wrote about liking him. On that matter he was a bloody idjit as England would say.

You played with the tassel on the pillow, "Maybe I do."

"Great another girl falling for strong Germany, imagine that."

You rolled your eyes, "That is not what I meant."

America sat down at the piano and uncapped the casing over the ivory stained keys, "What did you then? I would be delighted to comply."

"Bull you would."

"No honestly, have at me. Tell me what you want me to do, how can I prove I'm a gent?" He started playing the keys lightly, a tune so fait but you knew it well. It was the same one from last night's story, the same one that Denmark always went around humming, the same on Norway pretended he didn't know. You wondered if that song was Norway's trigger and thus why he ignored it too much. You knew it was Denmark's safety, keeping the flashback though not the tears back. You thought back to your conversation with Switzerland, to the look and flashback you made him have.

"Promise me Prussia won't get hurt too bad," Switzerland said from behind his desk.

"Call of the prank, at least on Prussia," you said back to America.

His fingers slipped, and you could see the girl throw herself into the ocean her song cut off as the mermaids pulled her down. "Excuse me?" America offered back.

"I don't want to hurt Prussia. I think it's a bad idea."

"Are you kidding me?"

"No, I can't do it. I can't hurt Prussia. He's-"

"The only reason we were doing this was because of you!"

"I don't see why it's such an issue to just have a part then."

"I spent hours writing that plan up so Switzerland would approve it, I played by the books."

"We can still go after Denmark if you want, maybe even get Egypt instead of Prussia."

"No the plan only works if it's Prussia and Denmark!" America was mad now as he stood up from the piano. "And being to key word."

"The plan stated and or."

"There is a reason why and comes first."

"There is a reason why or was added."

"What's your reason then?" He stared at you, his eyes iced over and his hair in his face. "Why do you want it canceled?"

You sat up on the couch and looked at him, "I told you, I think it's a bad idea."

"No no, someone changed your mind. That's what it is, it's not about the prank," America pointed his hand at you repeatedly as he inched towards you. However his steps were not as careful as his words. You knew you could not have taken him down in stance but you were far more rational then he was. You would not let it slip about Switzerland. You would not make Switzerland be a way out; America's rage would be at you not at him. Switzerland had not asked you to stop, he had approved it. But he had asked something that you knew America could not keep. America who could not even keep his mouth shut, "It's not about a change of heart. It's about your heart."

The line pulled you back. Great he finally reads that part of the book and becomes dyslexic unable to see the black writing clearly. Arabic had always confused him. You were growing impatient with his ignorance, "What? My heart? What does my heart have to do with this? It's perfectly logical!"

"Logical?! Ha, someone has brainwashed you."

"Brainwashed me? Oh course that's logical. If this was an Alien movie or a CIA show!"

"Military tactics are impossible? In a house of nations brought together to train for war? Yes you must have been brainwashed, you're not logical and you're no fun anymore."

You where fuming, you could feel the blood in your veins pop and pour into the empty spaces of your body, filling you up to the brink. Everything was threatening to pour out of you, to break you down and be unleashed. Why was he being such a jerk? What had gotten into him? What did he care? "I'm no fun because I think it's a dick move to hurt a nation that already lost his entire country thanks to you?"

You didn't care if he spiraled into a flashback or not. You didn't care if it took him back to begging his boss to not sign the document. You didn't care if he went back to having to reprint millions of maps so that it read East and West Germany instead of Prussia and Germany. You didn't care if he went back to the fact that he couldn't see one of his best friends that day because even the hero could not come up with the courage to face him. You didn't care how small he felt, how distressed of a damsel he was, or if he simply shriveled up. You wanted him to feel the pain of loss. What it was really like to fight. What it felt like to have every day be the revolutionary war. France had been through pain, Britain had, Denmark had, but no nation had like Prussia.

You wanted him to feel every tear that ran down Prussia's face. Wanted him to know and live every limitation he faced. You wanted him to know the pain of being human, and the curse of being a nation. You wanted the hero to know what it was like to lose everything, and have only the worst of both ends. You wanted him to know what it felt like to be in a tragedy; to live it instead of cast it as a weapon. You wanted him to live it all instead of read of it. You wanted him to not merely sympathize but empathize. You wanted the hero to be desperate, to want to be a villain.

You wanted him to feel like that girl in the story. Hopeless and loss, but you knew he was too busy being the first mate, just some idiot that wanted laughs and never answers. You didn't know what was coming over you, you were so mad at him. You had never had anything bad to say about America before, not one word. Everything someone else saw as a flaw, one of his idiosyncrasies was just charming to you, just endearing, it made you love him more. Now he could have been an angel and you still would have hated him. You wanted to rip the decorative sword off the wall and play darts with them, the bull eye being his glasses.

America stepped closer to you, only improving your chances of hitting him accurately, "You like him, that's it."

God he could not be more stupid could he? You wondered how it would be to like some who wasn't blind. Maybe the glasses were screwing with his head. I mean honestly you would have to see if there was a bifocal spell more the mind. You found yourself giving him the grimace of stares, "Pardon me?"

"Prussia."

"You think I fancy Prussia?"

"Or you like Switzerland or one of the other Germans; you think they are so great," America was dripping sarcasm now.

"Switzerland?!" As you spoke you realized that it was the only sound in the room other than America's heavy breathing. You heard no clatter from the kitchen; you heard no shower running down the hall. You knew they were all lingering about watching you fight with America. You knew that the only sound they would speak would be breaths and of making sure the other was quite. You wished there were pots clanging and shouts of Italian and Spanish and German and French. You wished you could hear France singing from the shower. You even wished for a food fight. But none came, all that came was English.

"But personally my money's on Prussia. Awesome Prussia. Poor misunderstood Prussia. Poor dissolved Prussia. Poor muscly and ripped Prussia." America stepped harder with every poor and every Prussia, poor for right and Prussia for left. He stabbed with his finger and his words to the point where he was stomping towards you. You had never remember the piano being so far away. You wished he would just reach you so you could slap him. You would give him no advantage of moving to him. "You don't want to hurt poor beautiful Prussia. Girls are always attracted to the nice guy that has lost everything. Or maybe it's Switzerland? I mean he is the brooding, powerful, and mysterious type, the bad boy that will treat you right. Or perhaps it's Germany? Rippling pectorals and all, so level headed, would make an excellent father; he's just misunderstood am I right?" Each adjective, each suggestion, each more hung on you and all at once it stabbed you. "Or Austria, you're just as composed as he is." With that final twist of the knife already embedded in your ribs he took the last step towards you. The toes of his shoes nearly standing on your bare feet.

You were mad, you were so mad. You didn't care what happened to him, or how you and felt about him. You would not sit here and help him plan this prank; you would not hurt Prussia or Denmark. You would do everything in your power to make sure it didn't happen. As if to show him all of what had just run through your head, as if to show him where you stood in relation to his plan, what side you took, what you stood for you rose. You allowed your chest to hit his, you would not be the one to back up.

You gave him back the same iced glare he had given you before. You felt your heart ice over as your glare perfected, and in all honesty you didn't care if it ever defrosted. You saw his eyes crack under the weight of your stare, and when they cracked you finally spoke, delivering the final blow, "No you're an asshole."

You pushed passed him, hitting his ribs with your hand in a jab worthy of the dagger you carried in combat. You did not knock him down, you did not slap him. You knew that there was no point in beating a dead horse, or trying to pull a statue off its high horse. Either way, if you hadn't knocked him down to the battle ground nothing would. You walked to the door and upon reaching the handle you broke your promise of not looking back, "and now you are on your own," you made sure to get the dagger in just the right place.

Then you slammed the door and took off towards the direction of your room. That was the plan anyway, but your stomping feet knew you would probably end up breaking something in your room. You would throw something, or punch something, or kick something. Your feet dragged you instead to the training room, specifically the one that dueled as sparing and boxing. You were still in comfortable training close, your hair still tied up in a ponytail, you grabbed the tape and pulled at it, wrapping it around your knuckles. One spin, two hands, three layers, four knuckles, five fingers, six wraps, than you pulled it apart with your teeth and plastered the edges down.


	11. Ladies Don't Start Fights

Your weakness in battle had always been getting lost in it. You would lose your surroundings if you weren't paying attention, someone could sneak up on you. You where the solider that fought best back to back with another, someone had your back and you could just slash out. Because of this weakness you would often fight back to back with one of your siblings who were always almost overly aware in battle, or with one of the German's whose training included such intensifying skills of analysis and observation.

You wondered who would have your back in this particular fight. You wondered who stood on what side in the kitchen. You hoped Spain and the Italy brothers would have your back, though with the way your family worked you couldn't exactly be sure. Ironically enough the only one you were sure of was Germany who would stand by Prussia in any situation. You punched harder now thinking at how wonderfully perfect the Germans were and how it had only gotten you into trouble now.

You wondered about France and about Canada. You wondered if they would fight or watch it all. France was a hard nation to understand in your opinion, in many ways he had adopted you but America was his son, well more or less. You wondered why France couldn't have had more of an influence on America considering you currently liked him better.

You jabbed. Often when you came you thought of a target to punch, or an event that had made you mad. You couldn't picture the bag as America though. Not with his goofy grin or his dazzling smile. You couldn't imagine smashing his glasses to bits or breaking his nose. You could imagine him doubling over or falling to the floor, but nothing more. You wanted him knocked off his horse not slashed apart. You weren't particularly thinking about the even either, or his glare. You thought of worry for the others yes, but mostly you just thought about the rage you felt. You just felt like your skin could blister over and blacken before falling off. You almost hoped it did, that way you would turn to ash and rise again like a phoenix. You could be reborn and ignore the incident, pretend like it never happened and you and America could simply move on.

You knew that wasn't the case though, and you didn't even have to dig deep to realize that.

You cleared your mind; you hated being a lone with your thoughts. It never ended well; you always ended up going back to Greece's stories or flashbacks or just angry. What was the one that America would say you were like? You stopped punching and thought.

Banner. Bruce Banner, the Incredible Hulk. Always angry. You snorted, hearing him say it in his hero voice. Well that may be true, maybe you were the Hulk over Coulson but America was from a whole nother universe. He was Harvey Dent, better known now as Two Face. You punched harder allowing the chains to ring. Two Face, not Cap. You might be angry a lot and he might believe in justice and an unbaits chance but when it came down to it he wasn't the one that was a hero.

He was really affecting you know, spending all your time either with Disney or Comic references. Even when you didn't want him there he was in your head. You shook it trying to banish what you knew you couldn't. You tried clearing it again. Nothing, your inner monologues never brought anything, nothing but a better core and faster punches.

You had been punching and kicking and fighting for what you knew had to be hours. You had allowed the world above you to disappear, there were no rooms and no families, and there were no nations, no screaming, no cooking, and no maple syrup. There was you and a punching bag that was tapped again and again with taped over hands. And you wish it could just stay that simple, but it only lasted moments before the thoughts came back or you were hypnotized by your own hands.

Fortunately this time your hands took over. And you watched thinking back to when Greece had first thought you the forms. You could feel your brother behind you, his hands on your forearms holding you up straight and steady. You could hear him whispering commands, the same way he did then and the same way he did when he was to your back on the field. The lazy voice that never changed except in your own head depending on a story compared to commands, you had grown use to its sleepy haze. You were so engrossed with the stupid bag that was almost puckered open from punches that you had to nearly punch yourself to pull away.

You let out a sigh, why did you do this to yourself?

You asked the same question often, and always concluded the same thing. You didn't know.

But you did know you needed water. You stopped the bag from it's routation of swings and picked up the near water bottle, taking swig after careful swig allowing the waves past the plastic to calm your racing heart and mind. You were doing so excellent with the mind wipe that you almost missed the voice that came, "One day I want to see you spar Switzerland."

You looked up and found the voice, the voice that so often disappeared in the sea of screaming nations, Canada. In all honesty if he hadn't been so vocal in the kitchen you didn't think you would have caught his voice now. You gave him a smile, the fakeness of it probably dripping as much as the sweat from your brow, "He'd kick my ass."

"Not if my brother pisses you off first." You nodded your head to the side, half as a stretch half saying he was pretty right in his statement. You had a lot you could have said to him instead, but you didn't want to offend Canada, piss yourself off more, or tell him something he already knew. Canada seemed to pick up on it, "I mean it, he was being an ass. He's never exactly been the smartest of the family when it came to these sort of things, ironic given he's a chemist and all."

You stared at Canada, "You too?"

Canada laughed, "Oh honey everyone but him knows. No nation ever is serious when they say stuff like what I did in the kitchen! We all know you're off the market. Well you would be if he would get his act together."

"He's going to really have to get it together now," you said picking up one of the swords designed for sparing. You twirled it around like a show off, but it wasn't your intent you were mad and needed to release steam.

Canada nodded the swords light reflecting off of his glasses so you couldn't see his eyes. You didn't know if they followed the sword or where they looked. He continued though, words as seamless as your movements, "He's oblivious, he jumps to conclusions regarding you, it's why he hesitates to do anything. Nearly kills France, it's why he's always so high strung around you two it's all he can do to keep himself from fangirling and grabbing you both and screaming now kiss!"

You laughed at the thought, "France is an interesting nation."

Canada rolled his eyes thinking of his dad, "He always goes over the top with shipping. You should see how upset he gets with England over the matter."

"England ships all of the Unforgivable ships?"

"Not really but he says he does mostly to spite France."

You nodded, of course England would, and America had to get his natural talent from somewhere. "Ah Captain Kirkland, the master of all the vessels to touch the crystal clear waters of any of the seven seas, he would be magnificent on his ships wouldn't he?"

Canada chuckled a chuckle that would supply the tone of you have no idea what so ever, "Spain and England may have history of the most impressive armada's but France's could knock them out of the water."

"He always was a good pirate," you sighed twisting the lose pieces of athletic tape on your hands. Now they were falling off from your sweat and you couldn't help but pick at them.

"Unfortunately though they are threating to push America overboard for nearly sinking their favorite ship," Canada's tone made it seem like he wasn't happy he wasn't able to push America off himself.

You laughed as you pulled the first full strip of tape away from your hand, "So is this you throwing him a lifesaver or me?"

Canada shrugged, "In all honestly I don't want to follow him off the plank."

"So I take it your mission was for you to come down to make sure I didn't screw up France's OTP?"

Canada snorted, "Please if my brother is too stupid to make his move the OTP can die for all I care. I'm more concerned about you."

You smiled despite the idea of your ship being sunk, "You have always been very sweet Canada."

Canada seemed like he wanted to say something, but he held it back, "Must be the maple syrup."

"Well I appreciate it; I haven't exactly had a family to lean on in such matters."

Canada's eyes cracked and he looked down, you must have guessed correctly at what he had wanted to say, "I'd take you over America any day, so would France and of course England would."

You smiled at him and put your sparing sword down nearby. Then you took a step forward and gave him a hug, "Thank you."

"Actually I think that's why France ships you guys so hard, even why England does. They want you, they really don't care if you guys actually like one another." You laughed into Canada's shoulder. He was relaxed, maybe he was use to such pep talks from all his hockey games, you had only been to a few of them but you could hear him screaming empowering words from the ice.

"Wanna really make me feel better?" You asked him.

Canada raised an eyebrow, "What do you have in mind."

You stepped back and pulled the sword up with a smile, "When was the last time you spared?"

Canada gave a weak smile and took the sword examining it. Finally he lunged into the proper starting stance. You imagined it hadn't been long, however he replied, "I think it was on a pirate ship."


	12. But They Can Finish Them

You slashed, "I'm surprised," though the tone was lost in your voice considering the circumstance of the conversation.

"My sparring partner was Romano," Canada said shrugging the words off and onto his hilt.

"I'm less surprised."

Canada laughed, "That's not what you meant though was it."

You lowered your sword slightly, "No."

Canada took his chance to attack, you blocked, "Dang it."

"That was rude," you replied as the swords clashed together offering a dangerous but satisfying clink.

"That, mon amie, was strategy."

You chuckled, "Using the French boy charm now are you?"

He shrugged with his free hand, "It's worked before."

"On your idiot brother maybe."

"Actually, I think it was Prussia."

You shrugged with your free hand, "Makes sense always had a soft spot for the French boys."

You two continued swinging as medal clashed on medal, every once and a while giving jokes at Denmark's or Prussia's expense. Your feet shuffled across the mats creating static friction build up on the soles of your shoes as you released the energy into the air to charge the conversation. You tried to shut yourself up, making a mental note to shock some sense into America.

Canada ducted under your blade so easily, normally you would at least chop off a couple of hair's in your swing. You shrugged it off as France teaching Canada to naturally defend his hair. It made sense; Canada had probably learned his skills from France as he had been such an amazing swordsman. You yourself had studied under his wing. Though even with similar training from both Romano and France Canada and yourself had very different styles, thus making it difficult to track and predict his moves. It came as no surprise when he shocked you ducking and immediately rising, not even waiting for your blade to clear the air space. His movement was not limited to a spring in his knees though, his wrist flicked with a swing and his voice retorted with a statement, "I still want to know what you meant though."

You slashed trying to avoid the corner he was driving you towards. Though you weren't sure you feared the corner because it would be harder to swing or he could pin you easier and turn on his French charm, most likely the later. However you hoped talking would help, though he seemed better at multitasking then you, "I'm surprised that you haven't given me the he's really not that bad speech yet."

Canada advanced nearly stepping on your toes, "Why bother? You know him well enough to know his faults and his strengths."

You nodded again, one in recognition of an agreed answer, "I suppose, but still aren't you supposed to defend him?" Your nod must have dazed you or thrown off your line of sight in some way because suddenly Canada slashed in a way that forced you to turn. He had cornered you but not in the way you had expected. The corner was his chest; you were captured between his two arms. You thought quickly, a wall you couldn't fight against, a nation you could. You jabbed quickly to his shoulder and his hip, going across his body with your elbows.

He was pushed back, stumbling lightly over his own feet but doing so in a way that seemed like it was purposeful. Regardless of how purposeful the fall seemed he ended on his back with feet bent in the air. He managed to hold on to his sword somehow and laughed as he lifted his head to look at you, his neck now exposed. You snickered at his mistake but allowed him to reply, "I told you I liked you better."

You reveled his mistake with the step forward you took. You brought your blade up and slid it gently under his chin, close enough to shave off his hockey season stubble. You wondered if the blade was still cold, it didn't seem to be the touch didn't surprise him. You smiled at him and spoke waiting for the surrender, "You should, any reasons why I should like your brother again?"

"Um?" Canada stuttered either thinking of a reason or trying to put it gently. However he found his voice again, "I can't handle him? He's pretty much your idiot already? Please take him?" Canada begged from his weakened position on the floor.

"Are you in a position to negotiate?" you inquired with a faked perplexed look taking your face over to try and hide a growing grin.

"I'm rather comfortable if that's what you mean," He flashed a smile. It looked rather odd you knew you had seen it before. It had a cockiness of Denmark, a wildness of Prussia, a charm of France, a class of England, and warmth like America's. Maybe Canada always disappeared because he could be any nation he wanted. The thought sent a chill down your spine.

"You're a terrible liar."

"America was always better than I, I excelled in charm."

"You're a poor salesman."

Canada's sword suddenly made contact with your hilt and knocked it and yourself off guard without expelling it from your hand. You found yourself stumbling back in a way not as graceful as Canada had. You would have fallen either on your butt or hung on your sword had Canada not reached around your hips as a brace. You could feel the tip of your sword almost embedded into the floor as a support beam, if Canada let go you would be as stuck up as Austria. Unfortunately though it was not a wonderfully romantic dip instead of suspended in air, nor did it last long. Canada pulled at your hip until it was replaced onto a wall. Canada's hands pressing the bone in like it was a thumb tack. The thumb tack effect was the least of your problems though, although his hands were sharp you found the point of a blade at your collar bone.

Your smile had long been erased from your face, maybe you should have spent more time on a pirate ship. He seemed to get the joke without you even saying it for he looked over his glasses and smiled ready to make his own, "I'm a far better swords man."

You smiled happy with his humor, "I'll box Switzerland if you spar Romano."

"Deal, on one condition," The sword made a small inch away, enough for your expression to change comfortably but not enough for you to change the way the game would end. He had checked you and you couldn't even find his King.

"What might that be?"

"A token to gain mercy and spare your life."

"Doesn't sound like much of a choice then does it?"

Canada sighed, "Sadly it is one."

"Let me here the contract then, dear Knight. Do you come on behalf of your lord?"

The sword tried not to stiffen, "I serve no one but lady love and the damsels she takes favor too."

"France would be proud."

Canada gave a weak smile, foreshadowing the talk to come, "That he would."

"Is this message from your lady?"

"No, this is for you. I know my brother broke your heart. I know he's a selfish foolish idiot. I know he's a hero mostly in his own mind. But he's my brother; he's brilliant outside of women. He really will take care of you, not that you need it. But he needs you, he really does love you. Give him another chance." You stared at Canada, and the sword fell, "Please."

He stepped back and put the sword back up on its place on the wall. You still held yours loosely, "Who are you asking me as?"

"As Canada."

"As Canada my friend, or as Canada America's brother?"

"I'm asking for him to get another chance because he needs it, and because you do too. I ask as both."

You nodded, "Maybe I'm the idiot."

Canada smiled seeing the decision you had made, "Yeah but you're his idiot."

You waved your sword as a half threat to him, "Don't make me hate all of North America."

"Still made at Mexico?"

"He broke my good dagger!" You nearly embedded the sword into the ground, Romano had always asked if you were more Italian then you claimed considering you talked with your hands so much.

Canada raised his hand as he tried to step away from the sword, "Okay, okay still mad got it! I'll make sure to keep him away from you."

You nodded, "I'd be bad if I wanted to kill all of you."

Canada shrugged, "I've been bidding my time."

The two for you laughed for a moment as Canada embraced his inner Russia. He even flung your work out towel around him like a scarf. You had to lean on your sword to keep yourself from falling over flat on your face. Canada always had a talent of making you smile; you didn't realize how grateful you were for him.

You owed him, and you owed yourself another chance you thought as the laughter calmed down. As his last laugh hung in the air you replied back to the echo with, "I should probably go find him," you said to the ground still unwilling to actually move up the stairs or put your sword away. You had gotten use to the additional weight, and it felt better than the guilt you had carried around upstairs.

Canada laughed as a way to relive your shoulders and mind, "Hey," he said in a way that felt like he was lifting your chin, you looked up at him, "Want to mess with America and send France into a fangirl frenzy?"

Your eyes probably shone as bright as Sealand's, "Heck yeah! He wants a prank I'll give him one."

"Do you prefer Hong Kong, Iceland, or Poland?"

You stared at Canada, eyes wide in realization. Hong Kong was practical for pranking but the other two….they had a different set of skills one that Hong Kong shared. You groaned, "This isn't a prank is it?" He shook his head no. You threw your head back pissed off, "This is a makeover."

Canada nodded as he took your sword before you could abject with a slash. He hung it back on its mount and smiled, "It'll be fun."

"Yeah because you don't have to listen to them bicker over you."

"I thought most girls liked that?"

"I thought I was off the market?"

Canada chuckled, "By the time they're down with you, if America doesn't act within four seconds that rule will be broken," he grabbed your hand and pulled you up the stairs back to the world of the nations, the one you had tried to punch away, before you could abject that you didn't want other guys.

Canada pulled you in front of him as you climbed the stairs, and only then did you notice he had started singing, "Girl we've got work to do, pass me the pain and glue. Perfect isn't easy. But. It's. ME," He held the word out and you just thought of what upstairs had in store for you. Hong Kong singing _Popular_ from Wicked, Poland singing _Fabulous _from _High School Musical_, Iceland singing _Starstruckk_ by 3OH!3, Canada singing _Perfect_ from _Oliver and Company, _and probably the grand conclusion of France busting in singing _What Makes You Beautiful _by One Direction.

You sighed, "Let's get down to business."


	13. A Girl Worth Fighting For

France smiled at you, "Perfect." He didn't even bother to add a mon amie or a mademoiselle or any form of chérie to the sentence. It was odd to hear without his verbal tick, you were almost worried about the man's mental state.

Iceland stared at you in a way a designer would look over fashion sketches. His lip was pouted and so far extended that his index had to support it from dropping, "I'm speechless."

Hong Kong punched his shoulder and rolled his eyes, "You're always speechless, dummy."

"Not true, Denmark just talks for me, the drunken idiot," Iceland mumbled the last part while staying articulate which was his normal state of speech.

You stuck a hand up, "I really don't want to hear about Denmark."

"You could use a little less drama from your friends?" Canada asked with a wink.

"I'll box with you as a warm up for Switzerland if you keep that up," you retorted with a point of your freshly painted fingernail.

Canada rolled his eyes, "I play hockey honey, it might as well be boxing. We'll make it a date."

France smacked Canada on the head before he could even wink at his flirtatious comment. You laughed as France began scolding him rapidly in French, "Matthieu, je sais que je vous ai enseigné mieux. Comment osez-vous dire que pour une femme! Incroyable vous dépensez trop de temps sur cette glace. Je vais vous donner encore un cours sur étiquette."

"Papa, pas encore! Vous laissez Alfred il ya les âges!" Canada replied as if he was wounded beyond the head injury.

"Et je pensais que vous aviez mieux tourné. Ici vous succombez mes vaisseaux!"

From the French you had picked up over the years you got something to the effect of a lecture about France teaching him better than that and then a warning about not wrecking his ship. Canada seemed afraid of getting in the middle of a shipping war but he smiled at you none the less and took the beating. You laughed, "Rules officially broken?"

Poland sighed, "According to France's bro code book not until America sees you and can speak again from like totally being stunned at your fabulous looks!"

"Bro code? Who is he Barney?"

France stopped glaring at Canada and replied, "I have in fact embraced the suit up technique."

You sighed at the reference, "To be honest I wasn't expecting this sort of a super suit."

Poland looked crushed, France looked like you had beat him, Canada looked like you had actually slit his throat with your sword, even Hong Kong and Iceland seemed to be showing a generically upset emotion. Iceland seemed to be the chosen representative to speak though, perhaps because his voice wouldn't be a whine of sadness. Regardless of his normal composure though his voice croaked as it came out and cracked in a slight pitch flocculation, "You don't like it?"

Poland pouted, "I knew she'd hate it, it's the earrings I know it is."

France muttered something about stitching being messed up and puckering perhaps creating an itch or something. You couldn't follow as he kept changing language with his rambles a habit no doubt he had developed on the ships; what with Romano screaming Italian, Prussia screaming German, England speaking oldest version of English, and Spain running around cheering in Spanish. He swapped between all in a matter of few sentences.

You immediately felt your heart pang, "No no, oh gosh no!" You wanted to grab them all into a hug, "I didn't mean it like that at all, it's just….I expected to have to walk around in an avant-garde dress."

France chuckled, a complete personality change, "Perhaps someday, mon cher but not today. You have a party."

You smiled and looked down at your outfit, it really was rather breathtaking though a party outfit none the less. The jeans were a dark black that fit you perfectly without feeling like they would slide off or squeeze you to tight. The belt you wore was strictly for show and not functionality. It was an old style worthy of being behind a bar stool back in Texas or on a bull at a rodeo, but the buckle wasn't so giant you couldn't bend at the waist. You hoped America would go wild over it as it was a special touch from Poland. The shirt was one that flattered every curve your body had and hid the ones it didn't. It flowed beautifully but it tugged and clung in other places. There was no lace or bows and nothing over the top. Ironically enough it was a shirt with light prints hidden in it, along the sides as if the shirt was cut open where light scales of a mermaids tale, at the top of each sleeve along the shoulders was a star as the two stars for Neverland, and taking up the majority of the shirt where cloud formations of Mufasa, Ray the firefly, and the Jolly Rodger sailing to the second star on the right. The last detail lurking in the shadows were shadows themselves painted in Peter Pan style, but the shadows were those of yourself, Sealand, and America peering up at the clouds from the clock face.

You smiled, "And I look amazing for it."

France gave a tired smile, "I am glad you like it and we could satisfy."

"Oh I am very satisfied," You twirled on the soft heels of your shoes. You felt comfortable enough that you could be in your pajamas ready for Peter to come whisk you out the window. You felt as light as if you were really walking on the soft clouds of your silky shirt.

Canada laughed, "France was so worried you wouldn't be. You should have heard him sowing that shirt. Cursing in French didn't even satisfy him, he had to curse in just about every language there is."

Iceland smiled, "His Icelandic was surprisingly good."

France bowed, "Always happy to not butcher a language like the black sheep."

You stared at France before looking back down at your shirt, "France you made this?"

France nodded but Poland spoke, "You didn't honestly think we would send you out in something store bought did you?"

All of the nations shared a face of displeasure thinking no doubt of cheap fabric and itchy tags. "I don't ever remember you taking measurements, was that what the cursing was over?"

France nearly fell over laughing, "Oh no no, mon amie. I use to make all of the colonies clothing. You try getting Romano, Australia, or America to stand still long enough for measurements. That was of no problem."

You gave a puzzled look, "Then what was?"

France held up his hands, nearly reveling a recreation of the Stary Sky on his palms, "The dye was not behaving, I've always despised shading."

You walked over to France and gave him a hug and a peck on the cheek, his stubble tickling your nose, "Thank you, France. I'll try not to kill your son."

France made a whatever sort of sounding noise, "Please, just don't ever rip the shirt if you do decide to kill him."

You chuckled into his shoulder as he hugged you tighter, "I wouldn't dream of it."

France twirled you around one more time, "Well my dear? Are you prepared to dazzle him?"

You whipped your hair with a flick behind your shoulder, showing off the brilliant work of Hong Kong. "Please, they might as well give me a theme song to walk into."

Iceland flipped a CD in his hand, allowing the back to catch the light that came off of the earrings and various other accessories Poland had given you. The rainbow light reflected further off you, "That can be arranged."

You looked to Poland, "Well, will you be my escort then?"

Poland smiled, "It would be like totally fun!"

You corrected him, "It will be fabulous."

Canada laughed, "You really are going to turn heads."

"She's a girl worth fighting for," France smiled.

"America has one heck of a fight in front of him," Canada said as he opened up the door to the room you all had been in. You could hear the nations walking into the huge ballroom downstairs that had been converted into the center of the party. A wide smile crossed your face, and you stepped forward following Poland into the battle.


	14. My Spinach Puffs!

Iceland may have made it in time to flip on the music he had chosen as your theme song but it didn't matter, because it seemed to stop as you walked into the room. All the nations sort of stopped dancing and chatting as if you were Cinderella entering the ball. Denmark and Prussia were two of the nation's closest to you upon walking in. Even though the room was darker they both worse sunglasses, no doubt to look awesome, which promptly were lowered upon seeing you, they looked shocked, you had been shocked too when you first saw yourself. You gave a smile to them, yet no one spoke.

Finally a rather blunt, "Damn," came from the other side of the floor. You turned slightly to find Romano staring at you, his eyes traveling up and down as he took in each sparkle and stitch of the fabric. You laughed knowing he was far more interested in the fashion statement you wore opposed to how you looked in it, you looked impressive but Spain still looked better in his matador costume at least from behind.

You heard someone smack someone and looked to the food table, near the fried food section stood Britain next to of course America, the reason Britain was anywhere near the grease pit of the food you were sure. America, being who he was had already stuffed his face full with French fries and onion rings and cheese curds and all kinds of other finger foods perhaps potato chips to add a crunch or mozzarella sticks for even more carbs. He swallowed hard, and you hopped it was him trying to keep his jaw from falling rather than just get his normal face structure back. You wanted to laugh but instead you just smiled towards a blushing Australia, all the while pretending like America wasn't even in your line of sight.

But as always he was, which is how you caught the glare he flashed at Britain briefly before returning his gaze into your direction. Britain seemed to chuckle as he looked at America and you could almost hear the not so secretive sass, "Chipmunk cheeks, that's always a classy and endearing way to go."

America mumbled something along the lines of shut up, but he seemed to be halfhearted about it. "Oh America, I think you have some in your teeth."

America's hands immediately darted to his face and before they knocked on his teeth, suddenly he stopped though and glared at England. He pulled at his plate, ripping it out of the Brits hand. Whatever was on the plate America began to eat, until he realized it was from the British section of the table and began spitting things out.

England was staring flabbergasted, "My spinach puffs!"

"I never liked your spinach puffs! Why would you make these? Who let you even cook!" He was shouting over the music now, calling for attention. You debated whether to give it to him, but apparently no one else did for all eyes still rested on you. You laughed and looked around at everyone. They all were trying to make their way to great you or ask about your fashion choices.

"Maybe you should give the boy a glance, you know how he like totally needs attention," Poland chuckled with a flick of his wrist.

"Oh come on, maybe a little less harder to get but give into him?" You half whined half begged.

"Like what do you want him to do? He is totally staring at you dumbfounded. He's an idiot and like totally needs to see you like-"

"Like him?" you finished.

He gave you a sassy glare but nodded, "Totes."

You looked back, slightly not fully at him at least it didn't seem like it. You took in the scene, Poland had lied, America wasn't staring at you dumbfounded, at least not at the moment. He had kept his glare firm on England but began shoving food back in his face, something he normally did when he was either nervous or knew him talking would only worsen the situation. Although it might just have been to get the taste of Britain's cooking out of his mouth. Naturally he always kept food handy when talking to Britain, who was a master of twisting his lazy words. You didn't know if he was truly drifting from your line of sight or not as people greeted you, but you thought he was getting more frustrated with every glance at you and he seemed to be glancing a lot. But between the glare on his glasses and the food that he hadn't completely swallowed in his mouth you couldn't read his expression.

Before you could care too much about it though you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turned to look at Switzerland who stood with the faintest of smiles on his thin face. He turned to Poland, "Vould it ve possible for me to ask the lady for her first dance this evening?"

Poland stepped back trading his elbow for Switzerland's hand, "Be my guest," Poland smiled at you.

"Do you vish to dance?" Switzerland asked.

You smiled, "I would love to," and with your words everything resumed.

As you headed to the floor Denmark and Prussia attacked you applying accessories of glow sticks, Denmark laughed, "Not that you need more sparkle."

"You look awesome, save me a dance?" Prussia nudged you. You nodded back to him, he could be your next partner for all you cared. America didn't make a move and you were here to have a good time not wait up.

The sound of the floor under your shoes changed suddenly, reveling that you two had entered the dance floor. Switzerland turned to you and gave a small bow being the gentleman he was. Luckily the dance was rather slow considering that you couldn't even picture Switzerland club dancing. You placed your hand on his shoulder and he placed his likewise on your waist, taking your other hand respectfully as if he was your older brother or father dancing with you. You wanted to laugh at how incredibly polite he was, but instead you just smiled.

"France's work?" Switzerland asked with a nod to imply the handmade shirt.

You nodded back, "He had some help, but yes." Switzerland smiled, "You took my advice."

Switzerland shook his head, "Not intentionally, you just look nice and America looks upset."

You laughed, "Well he has no right to be upset, he should have asked."

Switzerland nodded, "I heard about your disagreement."

You nearly stopped dancing and fell over his feet, he continued though keeping you moving most likely trying to maintain the cover he had set up in front of America. You likewise tried to keep his battle strategy and smiled but your voice shook as you asked, "Y-you did?"

"Did you not mention to me that I do in fact know everything?"

You wanted to smack him but your smile returned to one of genuineness, "I did."

"It was not the intent I had in mind for our conversation."

"I realize that."

Switzerland now almost stopped and you had to pull him to keep him moving, "You did?"

"Oh seems you don't know everything."

"Apparently America is not as challenged vhen it comes to reading you as I thought."

You shrugged, "I have that effect on nations."

Switzerland nodded, "You did not have to."

"I wanted to."

"Do you always contradict yourself that much?"

You shrugged, "It depends, plans change as events change them."

"You did get something out of my training session yesterday."

"I do listen quite well."

"Thank you then," Switzerland said. You actually stopped this time, luckily the music had stopped as well, probably explaining why Switzerland didn't keep you dancing. He bowed and kissed your hand, "I believe my brother is growing impatient to have his chance to dance."

You gave a nod and smiled, "I believe a certain white haired soviet is eager to dance with the host as well." Switzerland seemed to ignore you comment, pretending it was lost in the music never the less you thought you saw a slight color rise on his face, though your eyes might have been playing tricks all night. Before you could check, Switzerland's hand slipped out of your own and Prussia appeared with the rising music beat. You turned to dance with him and as you did you noticed something about Switzerland, he was actually out of uniform and in civilian close. You smiled; you would have to have meetings with Switzerland more often. Or send a friend to the meetings, though based off his direction of travel and chug of liquid courage you thought he might just make an appointment himself. You smiled and the turned your attention back to Prussia who was smiling just as big, though once again you didn't know if it was your sparkles or his brother finally socializing.

"Dang girl, remind me not to piss you off Greece might mistake you for Aphrodite if we ever fought."

You laughed, "You might have mistaken me for Ares if you had seen me before."

Prussia smiled, "I wouldn't doubt it."

"Do you ever doubt anything? Aren't you normally the one to surprise others, you can't do that very well if you are always taken off guard."

"All the Germans are good at tactics, I just use my gift differently. Actually come to think of it, I have a battle plan for you."

You nearly stopped dancing yet again, you were getting tired of the stop motion act and just as tired of battle plans. You managed a reply however, "A battle plan?"

"A surprise if you will."

"For who?"

"You I suppose, or America or anyone. A way to surprise us all with a result, see if this whole America things is a yes or no once and for all."

"Tired of France's shipping?"

Prussia rolled his eyes, "Of him fangirling, of explaining to Sealand, of listening to America. I really should have fewer trios." Prussia almost sounded disappointed, "But it is the price you pay for awesome."

"So what's the surprise?" you said hesitantly, almost dreading to know the answer.

Apparently your thoughts were transferred through your tone of voice as Prussia stopped dancing and looked offended, "Nothing malicious. I wouldn't dare! I'm an angel after all," he said indicating the glow stick that had been twisted into a halo and perched onto his platinum hair.

You gave a nervous laugh, "What do you have in mind."

"SEVEN MINUTES IN HEAVEN!" Prussia called out over the music.


	15. Pass for a Perfect Bride

"I'm getting sick of having to stop my music," Iceland pouted irritated that he had to stop his spinning to play another stupid game. You knew Iceland hated these games, he would prefer to just be with Hong Kong.

You smiled, "You can give each "couple" a soundtrack."

A light bulb seemed to go off as Iceland turned like he was out of the Devil Wears Prada and stuck his hand out for something, "Hong Kong my shipping device."

Hong Kong rolled his eyes, "It's an iPhone you idiot."

"But its purpose is my shipping," he growled back.

Hong Kong handed over the screen with the perfectly glazed surface, "Here you go, princess."

"That's ice mistress to you."

"Oh, maybe we should skip the game. Tell me does that come with a costume?" Hong Kong allowed a slight fluctuation of seduction to sneak into his normally even voice.

You rolled your eyes and cut in before you could be given an answer that would scar you for life, "Get a room you two."

"I intend too," Hong Kong increased the fluctuation.

"Well I abject to check in," Iceland said typing now.

Hong Kong winked, "How about a closet?"

"Would you focus? I have shipping to do," Iceland said walking to the other side of the circle to observe.

Hong Kong rolled his eyes at you, "You always kill the moment."

"So sorry, if it makes you feel any better you guys are my OTP."

Hong Kong gave a slight and silent laugh, only showing his amusement with a few lines on the sides of his upturned mouth, "You sound like France," and then he too walked to the other side of the circle plopping down next to Iceland and blowing his bubble gum. He laid his chin down on the boned shoulder of Iceland and stared at him begging for his attention, but Iceland was in full fanboy mode at that point, music at the ready.

Apparently there was a designated fanboy section of the circle as France was seated next to the two nations. He seemed on edge and nervous as if his own OTP was being put to the test, love triangles did have that effect on him. You were sure if it wasn't for the fact that France had just had Poland polish his nails he would be biting them from the suspense. Finally the feels overwhelmed him, "Prussia, I don't know if this is a good idea," he muttered expressing his concern. He glanced between you and America, was he afraid that you would get thrown in the closet with someone else? Or America would?

If you weren't sharing the same worries you would have laughed at France's anxiety level. It was rather comical from an outsider stand point. You gave him a smile, and he seemed to beg more anxious, to the point where even Britain felt the need to comfort him, considering he was tugging on Prussia's pants so often he almost pants him. You thought it was peculiar Britain was comforting him, but then you remembered Canada saying Britain and France both shipped you and America.

You looked around at the circle of nations who had been pulled into the game. Switzerland looked displeased; you wondered if he was pulled in because he was Prussia's brother or the host, or perhaps someone else shared your ship. Spain looked confused as to what was going on, a big surprise, but you waved at his gentle smile. Romano sat pouting, you knew he loved playing games like this though he took after his grandfather that way. Italy was busy chatting with Germany who was shooting glares at Prussia from his position in the circle. Poland was rambling on an on to Lithuania about something or other, you couldn't tell if he was talking more than normal but it seemed like it with the juxtaposition of Hong Kong and Iceland having a silent conversation with one another next to the very animated Poland and still feels overwhelmed France.

Hungary sat rather protectively next to Austria who seemed nervous in the situation. You wondered why they were there, everyone knew if they got Austria over Hungary all they would get would be seven days of a black out courtesy of a frying pan. Romania though, who had probably taken one to many hits to the head from said frying pan, was poking at Hungary's flower and teasing her about someone else getting "Mr. Austria." Belgium sat wide eyed as she tried to convince Netherlands to lighten up, though he seemed to be trying to hide the game in a billow of smoke from his pipe.

Canada waved at you, you gave a wave back and he winked at you gesturing to America slightly. You stuck your tongue out at him and he smiled. You continued your gaze to avoid giving a glare. Austria, New Zealand, Hutt River, Ladonia, Latvia, and Seychelles all sat in a circle together staring at who they wanted to be matched with. In a way it was cute, you had remembered being like that. You glazed over Greece, since he was passed out again. You ignored Turkey and Egypt who were making kissy faces in your direction. You hated your family.

Finally your eyes landed on the nation next to you. Belarus looked just as bored as the rest of them when you turned to face her. "Belarus?" you sounded more surprised than you intended, "What are you doing here? You normally hate these games."

Belarus gave a small sigh, "America dragged me over, I think he didn't want to show up to the circle alone. He grabbed me after he tried to grab Vietnam, who slapped him of course. I would have thrown something at him when he tried to dance with me but Switzerland made me turn all my knives over and I was given an outfit to wear to make sure they could not be concealed."

You nodded apparently America was messing up more than one ship. But Belarus did look stunning, Switzerland had made a good choice. You bit your tongue to hide your comment and chose to talk of the idiot instead, "I'm sorry you got stuck with America."

"Could you two please mend your differences before he causes me a greater headache?"

You laughed, "I will once he apologizes."

"In that case I shall forward my medical bill to you."

You laughed further in an agreement, you wanted to respond but Denmark spoke instead, "Hello ladies," he tipped his hat.

"What do you need, Denmark?" You asked.

"Seven minutes in heaven, you have a random partner. I need a random item that you don't mind a sticker going on."

Belarus padded the pockets of her jeans, sown shut no doubt since they were female clothing. She rolled her eyes clearly cursing Switzerland. She finally pulled out the headband in her hair. Denmark handed over a sticker, it was small and printed on it was the flag of Belarus, she placed it on the inside, right behind the center of the bow then dropped it into the bag Denmark had held out. Denmark flashed a smile again, "Thank you ma lady."

"You're really playing?" you asked Belarus.

"Do you want to fight Prussia about it?" she asked back.

"You could take him." 

"I would hate to wreck the party."

"Or you want to kiss Switzerland," you smiled wickedly, you suddenly knew how Egypt had felt this morning.

She stared at you, and you were almost glad she didn't have her knifes, "What?"

"Oh come on like I didn't notice the only time you play this game is conveniently the only time Switzerland's been pulled in."

Denmark chuckled as he started singing, "I can see what's happening?"

Belarus still was confused, "What?"

You rolled your eyes, "And then don't have a clue."

"Who?" Belarus asked with her eyes darting between you and Denmark looking for the invisible line of a spider web that would connect the joke she seemed to be missing.

Denmark continued, "They'll fall in love and here's the bottom line-"

"Our trio's down to two," you indicated Denmark, Belarus and yourself.

"Oh," Belarus finally got the reference; you made a mental note to brush Belarus up on her Disney movies.

You laughed giving it a rest now that Belarus understood, "Oh come on don't tell me you can't feel the love tonight?"

Belarus rolled her eyes now, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Your blush deceives you young lioness," Denmark said with a gesture to Belarus' burning cheeks.

She composed herself quickly, "Sorry to disappoint but that is just a reflection you see."

Denmark continued on Disney, "When will your reflection show how you feel inside?"

"When I can pass for a perfect bride," Belarus responded quickly you didn't know if she was trying to hold onto the reference line or if she was just trying to get Denmark out of her face.

Denmark winked, "You're going to want a square feeling subject then." You meanwhile had been placing the sticker on your object, just one of the many accessories Poland had given you to wear, "And you my dear," Denmark said as you dropped the object in, lost in the bag, "you want a star." Before you could question the Dane he walked off, with a remark of, "Bring some honor to us all."

Apparently your object had been the last to go in. He shook the bag up as he went back to Prussia's side to run the game. Prussia smiled, "Okay this is how this is going to work. Pick an item, look for the flag to confirm the country, and then you go in the closet with that country for seven minutes. Whatever happens happens, no one will ask you of what happened in the closet it is your choice to revel **but** be warned, if the closet door is opened after exactly seven minutes and you are caught in any act photos may be taken. You cannot block the door to gain more time, and no one gets out early! Got it?"

All the nations either nodded or groaned to show they understood all the terms.

Prussia clapped his hands to seal the deal as if pulling back a freshly signed contract, you thought of Ursula. You took a gulp and took a breath for you had already signed the scroll. "Awesome, so, who wants to go first?" his smile was warm and inviting in a way you wanted to volunteer, but no one wanted to be desperate enough to go first. Silence. "BRUDER THANK YOU FOR VOLUNTERRING!"

Germany, Austria, and Switzerland all suddenly stiffened as they waited to see who exactly would receive the bag under their nose. Denmark seemed just as confused as he raised an eyebrow at Prussia. Prussia laughed and continued, "I mean how rude would I be to not offer it to our host first?"

Germany and Austria suddenly relaxed, realizing it was not their turn to pick. You looked across the circle at Switzerland who looked like he wanted you to pull the old prank now so he didn't have to draw. Actually, come to think of it he knew the plan and looked like he was seconds away from executing it. Denmark inched towards Switzerland hesitantly. He managed to hold the bag out at arm's length.

Switzerland shot a quick glace in your direction, though from the look on his face you were convinced that it was not meant for you. Switzerland looked away rapidly through and you couldn't check. He stared Denmark down as he plunged his arm into the bag, nearly knocking Denmark forward with his force. He felt around briefly but didn't linger to long, he either knew the item he was looking for or had chosen to just take his chances. The item he pulled out of the bag was familiar too you, neither of you even had to wait to see the flag's sticker.


	16. Tale as Old as Time

You nudged Belarus who still hadn't stood up, despite the fact that Switzerland had called out her name. "I'm not being charged for that too am I?"

Belarus maintained her stare; finally Switzerland received a nudge from both France and Romano. He sort of stumbled forward. He stood up and looked down at the nations at his feet, as if saying he would be back to deal with them for making him look foolish. Romano rolled his eyes and waved him forward. France meanwhile suppressed a squeak; clearly someone else shipped the same OTP as you. You made a note to talk to France about it as soon as possible; you need someone to fangirl with.

You met France's eyes and they were glazed over, you knew he was in full fanboy state far off from wherever the party was. You giggled, and decided to give him a reason to come back to earth. "Belarus is you sweetie," you whispered to your friend.

She didn't respond.

"Belarus?" Prussia and Denmark asked in unison.

Prussia facepalmed in a way you could feel the red mark outlining your own face, "Well Bruder? You always go on about being a gentleman, go get the lady!"

Switzerland snapped up as if it was an order, his reflexes taking over though his eyes still seemed dazed. You were unsure if it was a daze like France or not though. You watched intrigued by the situation that was being laid out before you. He made his way slowly and casually across the circle, taking long strides but his pace was one of hesitation. You hoped it was because he believed it was too good to be true, you didn't want to be around a heartbroken Belarus. After all, she herself had avoided contact with Switzerland for ages out of fear of this moment. You wanted to hug her and wish her luck, but Switzerland had to get here first.

He finally came, and as he scrunched down into a perch on the tips of his toes he held out a hand to Belarus who somehow managed to take it. For a moment the incredibly dangerous and quite nations stood there. Switzerland suddenly seemed cooler and more composed as he rose pulling her up. He gained back the same confidence all the German's walked with as he still held her hand with one of his but the other was free. Switzerland again made his move first, though this time unprompted by the game master, as he placed the headband back in Belarus' hair, and moving the strands from her face. You had to admit he was smooth, and Belarus seemed to agree for an odd look came across the two nation's faces, what appeared to be a smile. Though despite knowing and being somewhat friends with both of them, you couldn't be positive if it was or just a trick of the light.

You could hear Taiwan fangirling and whispering, "Ship ship ship," from her seat just outside the circle. Iceland was tapping away at his iPhone making playlist after playlist for them. Iceland's fingers slipped and he poked a song twice, playing it instead of just adding it to a playlist. Hong Kong flinched upon hearing the sudden sound of the song coursing up the headphone cord to his could faintly here a whisper of Upendi coming from them. You smiled at Rafiki's familiar voice. Iceland immediately turned it off and went back to his tapping. With each tap of Iceland's fingers Taiwan's voice increased in pitch and tempo.

France grabbed her, "Save it for the end pictures, mon amie."

Taiwan nearly fainted into France's lap. You wondered if this was how France felt when you and America interacted. It was driving you crazy, you were so close to springing up from your seat and smashing the two together screaming, "NOW KISS!" like a mad woman, not caring if it was seven minutes or in a closet.

Luckily though you had Denmark who was helping you, thought you were sure Belarus and Switzerland saw the events differently. He pushed the two towards the closet, "Alright love birds, no one wants to see you gaze at one another." He shoved them in, "Make it more interesting then you two normally are!" and then slammed the door. He turned back around to the circle brushing his hands together as if he was satisfied with a dusting job, "Who's next?"

"Isn't the closet being used?" Lithuania asked.

Prussia snorted he laughed so hard, "Oh, we have four we can use at one time."

"Who's next?" Denmark repeated.

No one volunteered, just as last time. You stared around the circle and no one met your eyes or Prussia's. You felt like you were in a classroom and the teacher had just asked the meaning of life, or to solve an impossible physics problem. Finally you landed on red eyes framed in white. A smile appeared underneath and you knew the trick you had used back in school didn't work. Naturally a teacher wouldn't call on you if you looked confident and shared eye contact, but Prussia was Prussia. The smile grew bigger till it reached almost Joker proportion, "Well we already had the beast of a war machine, why not the beauty of the ball?"

Denmark stepped over to you, the bag in hand. He winked and mouthed the word star. You weren't sure you could trust him or not, he might be messing with you. How did he know what object you wanted if even you didn't? You thought back to Canada, "Oh honey everyone knows but him."

Wow, it was so obvious even Denmark knew, America must be beyond dense. Yet despite his density you still wanted his object. A star….what was star shaped that he would have put in? You sighed giving up on the analysis. You looked around the circle; it couldn't be that bad regardless of whom you got right? Germany was polite, Austria wouldn't be allowed in with anyone but Hungary, Spain was cute, you would kiss Romano just to get him to stop yelling, Australia was a sweetheart so you felt pretty confident plunging your hand into the bag.

You debated on whether you should try and search around the bag for something that maybe spoke to you or seemed like an object you knew. You probably would have followed the rout had you not touched what seemed like the edges of a star at first. Your fingers closed around it and you lifted it above the other objects, but kept it in the bag in case you changed your mind. The object was cold to the touch and felt like medal you had worn on your own uniform. The feeling of the polish was familiar like it had been held in your own hand. You decided upon the always faithful oh screw it method and pulled it out.

Denmark smiled, and blocked the view for all the other nations. You stared at it, it was a star. A dusted over pin that read sheriff. You turned it over and found the name Alfred F. Jones under a sticker of the America flag. You stared up at Denmark. He winked at you, "Told you."

You tried calculating the odds of getting America's object, of Denmark not playing games, of Denmark being right, of the game being rigged. All the while Denmark moved and called out for America to go to the closet. Whisper and sounds of ooohs and ahhs interrupted the calculations though as the other nations were able to see the object in your hands upon Denmark's removal from the situation.

You saw America be ushered past you by Denmark, and Prussia meanwhile was pulling you up and dragging you over to the closet. France stood at the door grinning at you. Before the two of you could be pushed into the closet though France grabbed America's shoulder in a tight vice, "Don't you dare screw this up America, I like her."

And with that wonderful pep talk you were pushed into a closet after America, Prussia no doubt aiming to make sure that you landed on top of him.


	17. Be a Man

You should have figured Prussia's aim would be spot on, what with Switzerland being his brother and all. "Ow," came a voice from beneath you.

You moved away from America, without a sorry. You refused to be the first to allow it to pass your lips. You slid into the corner of the closet and looked at America. His back wasn't to you yet, though you guessed it was because his back was still pressed to the floor, you were confident it would change soon enough. He offered a groan. You rolled your eyes. Finally he sat up and looked around, probably for you. You cleared your throat and his glasses landed on you, "Are you okay?" he asked.

You nodded, then thought better of it he didn't have the best eyesight, "Fantastic," you said as the emotions battled it out inside of you.

"I mean it."

"So kind of you to care, would you ask if I was Prussia?"

"Are we going to fight for seven minutes?"

"Would you rather sit in silence?"

"No."

"Then yes we are going to fight."

"Because I was an ass," he said to matter of factly for your liking.

"Because you didn't let me explain," you corrected leaning forward in the darkness.

"You didn't offer one really."

"You wouldn't have listened if I did."

He moved so he was right next to you leaning on the wall, "I'm all ears."

You blew hair out of your face and plunged into your explanation, talking fast and without breathing as you unleashed all of your anger. When you finished he spoke, "You mean to tell me I haven't talked to you for hours because you were worried about Prussia's flashbacks? Switzerland didn't even mention a flashback!"

"No, but he seemed to have one."

America nodded trying to understand, "How do you know?"

"He had the same face you got when you had yours."

"My what?"

"Your flashback, when we were in your room this morning."

"What flashback?"

"The one after I said your name, the one from the Revolution it seemed."

You heard a thunk as America's head hit the wall of the closet, "That's what this was all about? You being worried about the flashback?"

You looked at him, "Yes, I didn't want someone else to feel that way or to feel useless standing there. I didn't-"

America seemed even more frustrated now as he cut you off, "I can't even remember most of the Revolutionary war I spent it drunk and angry. I remember feeling happy for being independent, beyond that I drank to separate myself from Iggy. I drank to be a solider a human. I haven't been back since, not even on the fourth of July."

"Then where did you go?" you asked knowing full well he had spiraled into a flashback.

"Back to Vietnam," he suddenly grew quite, "I was thinking about the last human that called me Alfred." He pulled at his bombers jacket, "You didn't really trigger it, it gets triggered all the time, what with my souvenir and all."

"Souvenir?"

America turned showing you the familiar numbers on his jacket, 50, "It's not fake, it's a standard issue jacket for the US air force."

You stared at the jacket; you had known America for years and had never known the story behind the jacket he always wore. You had heard plenty of stories; every nation seemed to have their own tale to tell revolving the relic. Some said it was Amelia Earhart's jacket, others said it was the jacket he had gotten the first time he was cleared into the Air force, others said it was a replica of the first army issued jacket that Steve Rodgers wore, some claimed he had taken the jacket to remember the many people that sacrificed themselves for the United States, others said it was just a jacket one of comfort, some thought it was one England had made for him when he was teaching America to fly, and others thought it was a symbol of willpower attributed to Hal Jordon. You didn't know what one was true or if any of them where. You thought surly another nation had to know the true story, but you had never found a story that matched with another nations. You couldn't find a lead or a truth and so you had given up long ago on your search.

America refused to tell the story; it was the only one he wouldn't share. He would send himself into flashbacks for the sake of a good story, for a lesson, for entertainment. But he avoided the subject and every nation, young and old knew better than to try and tip toe around it and spiral in for the kill. Even nations that knew everything knew nothing, or at least they didn't share it. There was a promise or a pact of some sort that surrounded the jacket, it was never spoken of as more than America's iconic jacket. That was it. Not even his own relatives would provide an answer. You had tried working around the direct story, trying to rule out your options maybe not find the truth but at least know what was false. But they all refused as if the answer was too painful a flashback for them too.

"Where did you get the souvenir?"

America sighed and went into a flashback, narrating almost as if he wasn't really in either place, as if it was an out of body experience. He told you about a Vietnam war protest and a boy that set fire to his draft card. He told you about a lighter engraved that was passed around the circle and what it felt like in his hands. He told you about how he pulled at the lighter and watched as the flames licked up his own card, one he was automatically issued in every war considering he was expected to fight because he couldn't die from a bullet or a blast.

He told you about the same boy who he had bunked with, went on patrol with, the boy that had become as close to family as England or Canada or any one of his brothers or sisters. He told you about the jokes he would tell and the yo-yo he would spin as he weaved the infrequent story yarns. He told you of the boy with the bright eyes and the worn smile. He told you about his back story about his family, about the silver ring he wore on his finger from his time in the scouts.

America told you further about sunlight and trees, about being lost in the light on the patty fields. He whispered about the dirtiest his knife ever got was digging the dirt and dried mud out of the carvings in his standard issue boots. He told you about the graphite and steel carvings in their camouflaged helmets and how they would joke about cave paintings.

Eventually he told you about how one day it was just them on patrol, and they didn't radio in on time. He told you about the strike that was made on the two of them. He told you about how the young man called his name and how he had refused to answer. Finally he told you about how the solider died trying to knock him away from a blast. About how that event was what started all the cliché war stories, about how he cried in the similar scene in Captain America the first Avenger. He told you about how he wore that jacket, for the last solider that personally knew him and the last one that laid down his life as fully as possible for his country. He told you about how it was sickening that it had all happened in a war that America himself didn't even believe in.

"America I-I don't, I didn't," you stuttered.

America cut you off, "I know, it's not your fault."

"You blame yourself don't you?"

"I didn't say that."

"It's pretty clear you blame yourself."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Who else have you told that too?"

"Tell it? Why it's just a story."

"It's not real?" You said almost betrayed.

"Does the answer matter?"

"Yes."

"Then I can't lie about it being true."

You stared at him, looking over his body language, taking in how he wouldn't even face you. He still seemed as if he was in the half way world of flashbacks and nation hood present day. You wondered if it was true, and based off of what you saw before you you decided it must be.

"What about your other story."

"What story?"

"The one you told me and Sealand, the one Denmark sings the song to all the time."

America nodded as if he understood, "What about it?"

"Is that one true?"

"Does it matter?"

"No," you decided. It didn't matter if it was true. You would feel the same if it was a fairy or true tale. "I guess not."

"I don't know to be honest, I don't know if the story was every true and changed over time or if it was just a story someone came up with one day. I never felt the need to ask Denmark, and I don't think he ever felt the need to ask or to tell."

You nodded, "However, this answer does matter. What happened? How did it end?"

America sighed still not looking at you, "He never got the girl."

"What? Why not! The hero always gets the girl!" you found yourself nearly screaming in the dark now.

"He wasn't a hero, just a main character, not every main character is a hero you know."

"I guess not but the way you told the story…" you trialed off hoping he would pick up the sentence.

He did though not in the way you intended it to be finished, "It was just a story for Sealand."

You sat in silence, "Who was the girl?"

"Just a sort of Princess."

"No I mean, who was she. She was based off of someone."

"No one, they were made up for all I know."

"Bull," you answered, "The guy was you wasn't he?"

"I told you it's just a story."

You shook your head, "You told it for a reason, you like it so much for a reason. You play that song all the time, I've heard you sing it. I've never heard you put so much emotion into anything as that story. You think you're like him don't you? That's why Sealand and I saw him as a hero but you didn't."

He stared at you though you could tell he wanted to look away, "Yeah...I was the chicken cabin boy, the secret villain."

"You're not a villain," you tried to inch towards him. He wouldn't look at you again, "Oh come on be a man!" you half sung.

He responded back with a glare that could have rivaled Shang's, you really were never gonna catch your breath because this guy had you scared to death.

"Why you can see right through me? There's not a point in hiding!"

"You're not hiding."

"Well I thought I was, I guess not though considering everyone knew it."

"Knew what?"

"I was only ever a hero in my own mind."

"America, you are not a villain!" your voice rose from frustration.

"Well I sure as hell am not going to die a hero and every country reminds me how much I suck," he flopped his head onto his knees blowing his hair everywhere.

"Sealand and I think you're a hero"

"Sealand thinks everyone's a hero, he's a child and his hero of a pirate dad practices magic."

You sighed, "Well you're my hero not just some hero."

He laughed, "I would have gotten the princess then."

You stared at him, "What other lies have you told me?" You asked, "I am the lost princess?" he stared at you, "Did I mumble America?" He laughed lightly getting your reference to _Tangled_. "What other lies have you told me?" you said seriously.

"I don't know that story sorry, is it Italian? I only know German, English, and French, oh and Danish." You hit his knee lightly sending him sideways lightly. He sighed, "You ever ask me if I loved you? Like seriously and not just saying something like 'oh you know you love me' after I was mad at you for something?" he asked you looking at you dead on.

You shook your head, "No."

"Then I've never had to lie."

"What would have been your answer?" You gulped, "If-if I did ask that question."

He looked away, "No."

Your heart sunk like an anchor, "Is-is that the lie?"


	18. What Makes the Red Man Red?

He shrugged in a way that made his shoulders look unnatural, like they were those of Atlas instead of America. You wanted to hug him, to wrap him up and block any flashback or weight. But you couldn't, in more ways than one. Any nation knew you couldn't stop pain, you weren't in control of the nation and the actions your country preformed, not really at least. But it was more than that now, you couldn't do anything, you couldn't even stop staring with your lips slightly parted. He was looking at his knees again and you realized you were leaning as far forward as his glasses were on his nose. The glasses hung on the tip of his nose, and you hung on the edge of his words, "Does it matter? Things might change if I answer."

"Maybe I want things to change," you replied in a whisper. Despite the low tone you flinched hearing it come out, instantly regretting it. Because although you had whispered it did little to hide the sentence, considering you were in the close quarters of a closet. Your heart felt like it was dropping rapidly, but it hadn't hit the floor and exploded yet, part of you was hopeful. You had finally put it out there, that you wanted to be more than a buddy or someone who helped with Sealand.

He didn't even look up, though and you felt your heart spring back to the spot it once had in your chest. The beating calmed down, and your face began a fall instead. Canada wasn't kidding when he said everyone knew but him. Really? You had pretty much said it and he didn't even catch it. You knew he heard you, you knew it but he didn't register what exactly it was you had said. You chose to blame it on the fact that he was still dazed from the bomber jacket explanation, if you didn't you might have caught the shirt France made you on something in the closet in your attempt to kill him. He responded though as if nothing had changed, "Why? Oh right because I'm an asshole."

"Not true," you sounded like Sealand begging for another story.

"Yeah I am, you said so yourself."

You leaned forward, supporting your weight with one hand as the other pushed his glasses upward so that perhaps his vision of the situation would improve. He looked up at you finally, you gave a warm smile, "It doesn't matter what I said, what matters is what I meant."

"You meant I'm an asshole," he said matter of factly.

You plopped back down next to him, though not as close this time, "You are absolutely impossible you know that? Maybe it's not what I did say but what I didn't!"

America paused suddenly. He was freaking you out; it looked like he was going back into a flash back. You weren't sure if interrupting was good, maybe it was like sleep walking and you weren't supposed to pull them out of it in case they reacted like it was part of the flashback. But something in America's eyes freaked you out more than the idea of a possible attack. He looked like he had just had an epiphany. You raised an eyebrow at him to demonstrate your confusion. He responded by moving closer to you, his nose nearly touching yours. You averted your eyes refusing to meet them in case they went wild.

He seemed to have other plans though as he backed his nose away enough to lift your head up by your chin. You were forced to look up at him. You stared at his icy eyes the ones that reminded you of an ice skating rink, the kind of cold that made people have fun and snuggle closer. You looked for traces of the wildness you thought would be there, but none was found. His eyes looked the same as they did when he smiled or laughed, he looked happy in what he had found. The only difference was his eyes were now wider, and you doubted it was to let more light into the pupils. He looked like he was staring at a Christmas tree for the first time.

"You never asked me if I loved you," he said slickly like it was a pick up line.

"Believe it or not but that was established," you mumbled due to your pinched cheeks.

"No, no….why didn't you ask? What were you afraid of?"

You pulled his hand down from your face. You refused to let go of it now you had it though, you rested his hand in your lap. You rubbed your thumb lightly on the back of his hand. You chose to look down at the hand you now held, take in the moment you had it before he pulled away, "No."

"No what?" He asked perplexed, bending and squirming trying to meet your eyes. You tilted your head up a little before you replied, afraid he would end up in your lap and you would have to look into those eyes and make a full confession. You couldn't bear to see them shrink upon realizing that this was more than seven minutes to you.

"That's what I was afraid of," you finally answered after a heavy breath in.

America looked at you and you could see the old him reforming. He looked like Sealand on Christmas morning, so he wasn't quite back to normal but it was close. He shook his head, and rubbed the back of his neck, something he did when he finally came to the conclusion of a problem he had been working long and hard at to solve. He may have had an epiphany but it wasn't complete until now. You wondered if his eyes were draining. His knees dropped and soon he was sitting criss cross apple sauce facing you, once he could see you fully he flashed you a beautiful smile, clearly content, "And I'm the dense one?"

You punched him, "Yes! You had to get locked in a closet with me to figure it out!"

"Maybe if you would have given me a hint I could have figured it out faster!" he teased back as he rocked slightly sideways from your shoved punch.

"You're so slow, even if I had told you straight up!"

"I wish you had! Your fear was stupid. You're a dummy."

You're annoying."

"I thought I was the dreamy one," he batted his eyelashes.

You bit your lower lip for once chewing on it out of nerves and embarrassment rather than trying to keep fighting words in your mouth, "Yeah well-"

He gave a small chuckle, his eyes squinting in a way you so adored, "You're cute when you bite your lip."

"Excuse me?" you said eyes nearly as wide as his had been moments ago.

"And that wasn't a lie, like before."

"Like what?" You asked but America leaned over so that his nose was close to yours again. He seemed to be examining you, as if your eyes really did hold your soul. Finally he seemed to find what he was looking for, or at least that he like what he found as he gave you a wicked looking smile. You felt it transfer over to your own, "What you goof?"

"You look really pretty when you're plotting against Denmark and Prussia-"

"Is that why you got so mad? I wasn't as pretty when I argue with you?"

"Nah, you're gorgeous then too, and when you're dancing with Switzerland, and when you have a potato smashed on your face, and when your asleep with Sealand playing with your hair-"

"Yeah it was Sealand," you said sarcastically and rolling your eyes, but you chuckled at the end.

"Hey," America pouted a little, "We're not at the point where I can spill all of my secrets."

"Well what secrets do I get to know?"

The smile suddenly disappeared and he was completely serious, "I am the Batman."

You laughed at him, or tried to however something stopped you. Specifically America's lips suddenly against your own, and you were not the least bit sad about it. You leaned in a little closer, pushing him back. You could feel his face getting hot and all you could think of was the scene in Peter Pan when Tiger Lily kisses Peter. Somewhere under the blush though you could feel a smile, whose it was though you didn't know.

You two separated and you smiled upon seeing a pair of hands in your hair, "Told you so, I'm always right."

He shook his head as he looked down at his own fingers. He smiled though and pulled you closer to him again only inches from his nose, "Oh shut up," and with that your eyes closed and your heads turned so that your lips could lock.


	19. Ze Sweet Caress of Twilight

"Hey Prussia, looks like we got our answer!" Denmark called as the light poured into the closet.

"America your glasses," you mumbled trying to get the reflection they bounced out of your face.

He took them off and began to ran his fingers through his hair, smiling widely, "Sorry." His teeth weren't helping so you turned back to the light, big mistake.

Denmark stood gaping like a fish, he smacked Prussia's shoulder. Even with the glare of light and having your pupils not be adjusted to it you could tell both boys were surprised, "Switzerland! Something's wrong with your closet! It leads to a parallel universe!" Prussia called with his head slightly turned away from the two of you.

The name Switzerland pulled Denmark back a little. His eyes still lingered on you curled into America, and America being nice, but he was able to form sentences again, "Like he cares, he's kind of busy at the moment."

Prussia chuckled, "True that."

You laughed and buried your head in America's shoulder, mostly to hide your blushing cheeks from the comments. You felt a light kiss on your forehead, it was odd not feeling the glasses that normally came with, but the fingers twirling at your hair where reassurance enough. You were happy, even with the light blinding you, sure it had all happened in a closet because of a stupid game and Prussia's meddling, but hey it happened! You had no complaints. You had finally managed to swipe a kiss from that idiot, who was now your idiot.

Suddenly you knew France was present, or maybe Taiwan, you couldn't tell considering their fangirl squeals were about the same pitch. Though you were incredibly surprised they hadn't run and beaten Denmark and Prussia to the door. Perhaps they were worried you had killed America and ripped the shirt, in which case their OTP would be sunk because you had both died.

You couldn't think much more about it though because your head started hurting from the sudden light you were forced to stare into, it had begun it's turn back into your face as the door shifted angles and the light was bounced around. You buried your face deeper into America's shoulder, not embarrassed or even necessarily the light in all honestly you were afraid of what you might not be able to unseen. Fangirling could get pretty serious. Plus, America's shoulder was warm and comforting, you would use any excuse you could to bury your face in it.

"Oh someone get a picture!" Taiwan shrieked.

"Yeah, proof that someone can tolerate him," Canada chuckled.

"Shut up!" America retorted to his brother, and you felt a protective squeeze on your shoulder letting him know you were in fact there. You changed your snuggled up body so that your chin was resting on his shoulder, and the bridge of your nose supported the curve in his chin.

Denmark let out a sigh of relief as he took of his hat and ran his fingers through them, "Never mind call off the ambulance we're good."

"Ow!" Canada cried, "What was that for?" You could hear the sound of fabric moving in a rustled sound.

France spoke, after he probably had punched Canada in the shoulder, "Must you kill every moment?"

Another smacking sound, followed by another ow, "I didn't even get my picture," Taiwan stated, an obvious and over exaggerated pout no doubt on her face.

Canada chuckled, "I consider it pay back."

"Mathieu, did I not teach you better? Have some manners!"

"Alright alright! Just stop smacking me!" You looked up from America's shoulder slightly; just enough to see what was going on. Canada's arms were in the air, and France sported a glare he had no doubt picked up from England.

Canada took a step towards Taiwan and bowed, taking her hand in one of his. He flashed a smile before kissing its back lightly. Before straightening again he replied, "My apologies, Cherie, it was of no intent. Perhaps I can make it up to you?"

"Sadly you cannot," Hong Kong interjected.

Iceland chuckled, "Calm down, the miserable one's already taken care of, France can at least raise a child."

"I have a brilliant idea!" England called, "How about we stop bashing my children and parenting abilities and let him come out with his new lass that you all seem to fancy? "England rolled his eyes at the nations before him, he pushed through and simultaneously pushed them all back, "You could all enjoy them cuddle on the coach like you've been cooing over Belarus and Switzerland."

You stiffened along your spine causing you to sit up, almost with your head in America's jaw, "What?!"

"Yeah, out for a minute and haven't even separated," Denmark smiled, no doubt glad Belarus hadn't thrown anything at him since there seemed to be no blood or bruising visible.

"Positively sickening. Romano, Spain, Italy, and Hungary all at family dinners and now I have to add Belarus. Great," Prussia rolled his glowing red eyes.

"Any pictures?" you begged Taiwan.

"Yeah, Seychelle's is helping me put them to Ice's playlist. But they still look the same, so cute!" She squeaked.

"Define cute!?" You begged your heart leaping almost as fast as it had in the closet with America inches from your face.

"England fangirled a little even," Prussia stated disgusted by the curtness.

England punched him in the gut, "I did not you git!"

France chuckled, "You did indeed mon amie," as he tried to pat England's shoulder.

"Get off me frog, I refuse to stoop to your level. It was merely a smile."

Canada leaned forward whispering, "A nervous one after he freaked out so much he had to smooth down his hair and eyebrows."

"I'm going to lock you in the closet alone," England grumbled, but you noticed blush crossing over the bridge of his nose from the cheek turned away from the group.

Your face fell into surprise realizing it was true, "You mean-"

England gave up and nodded finally, "Yes alright, I may have fanboyed as if watching BBC. Thrilled now are we?"

As a matter of fact you were in fact thrilled. It always broke your heart how much pressure Belarus and Switzerland put on themselves, it was good they had one another….plus you were terrified your ship was going to sink.

Holy frick, you though, your ship was canon! Suddenly you were standing up and out of the closet, running towards the couch. America barely had time to move his arm before you ripped it off. He stared at the space blankly where you had been, you felt bad but it was serious shipping business. Canada chuckled as his surprised brother, "Happens with every girl he meets." France smacked him, moving his hair into the bridge of his glasses, creating a tangle near his curl. He muttered in French.

Australia chuckled over the sound so no one could hear the exact curses used, but he responded to Canada's comment, "Aye, mate normally takes a bit longa though." England smacked him in return, his hair almost getting stuck in the band aid peeling off of his nose.

America chuckled as he stood up from the closet floor, he pulled at his shirt and dusted off his glasses. He slid them back on his face and ran his fingers through his hair one last time as he spoke, "Nah, she's just a dedicated fangirl."

"OHMIGOSH! Francis!" You screamed from the other side of the room.

"What what?! Did you rip the shirt?" France's tone did a shift of maybe four per letter.

"Hey, um France? If you don't mind could you not kill her?" America asked.

"No promises," France said leaping across the room, "What is is mon amie?"

All that was heard was a muffled squeak.


	20. What's a Kiss?

France let out a sigh upon seeing you huddled behind the couch that was parallel to the snuggling nations. Belarus was sitting with her back up the leg of the coach, her butt on the floor, facing the fire. Seemingly asleep in her lap was Switzerland. You had seen his idea of sleep before from training camp outs, but he looked different. He looked calm and relaxed, like he had been through a lifetime of nightmares and finally was able to have a good dream. Belarus played with his hair, twirling at his bangs as she hummed a Russian foke song.

"Do not scare me like that," he hissed.

You pulled him down by the collar, "You wrecking it."

He stopped lecturing and enjoyed it too, you could feel the nation of love's heart blossom just looking at the two. Oh yeah it was officially canon, "I'm pissed I missed it."

"Would you have traded the time to see it?"

You shook your head instantly, "No way! I waited how long. But dang those pictures better be good," you said slamming a hand into the chair's back.

Belarus turned, and a pillow launched into your face. You were down and France was next to you, and Switzerland and Belarus had taken the place of the two of you standing. "And you were worried I would blow it," France muttered behind the feathers.

You wanted to rub your face, who knew a pillow could hurt so much. What kind of a store sold stone pillows? "Shut up," you mumbled but it was lost.

"_!" Taiwan streaked.

"Hey now kids, let's not kill her I'm kind of fond of her," America interjected. You pulled the pillow off your face and found his familiar smiling back at you, his eyes gave a sparkle, "Well maybe a little more then kind of."

You chuckled, "I would hope so."

Belarus rolled her eyes, "Wonderful, then you won't mind taking a bullet for her."

America tensed, "Bullets?"

Suddenly another pillow rained down, followed closely by a second as Switzerland and Belarus launched their attack. Each hit hitting America perfectly in the shoulder and hip sending him to a sprawl next to you on the floor. You smiled over at him, he rubbed his glasses but smiled none the less. His smile of course was unnatural, his smile had fire, had driven. He always had enjoyed fighting with Belarus.

His smile only grew wider realizing that he had started a war. England and France threw back in defense of their OTP, followed closely by your own family who was just eager to fight. Your own OTP jumping behind the couch they had just been leaning on. Both of their stances suddenly defensive, both of their backs pressed to one another. Soon every nation was in on it, throwing pillows the magical nations just kept conjuring up.

Soon enough pillows were less commonly thrown and more common was bundles of feathers as their cases had exploded, and began cascading through the air. Nations were screaming and throwing whatever pillows and feathers and cases they could find. Taking down nation after nation, and trying to keep them down.

You laughed wildly as a pillow from Estonia smacked you sideways and down into a pile of feathers and broken pillows that had piled up at your feet. The sensation felt like you were trying to swim in marshmallows. You heard a thick smack from above you but the feathers made it hard to see America until he appeared in front of you, mere inches from your face. He was still smiling and struggling to keep his eyes open over his beam. "Don't worry Miss, I'll save you! I'm the hero!" He struck a pose and you laughed harder at him, questioning if he really had fallen on accident. You still were having a hard time breathing from how intense it had gotten, so your laugh came out as wispy and silent as your breath itself.

You forced your breathing to focus and between gasps managed, "No thanks, junior."

His face fell, "Well why not?"

"Ever save a city before?"

"I saved Austria when he was lost on the beach last week, does that count? He's a country!"

"He's a representative."

"Ok um...well-"

"Thought so," you snickered as you nudged him with your foot

"But you're a damsel in distress aren't you? I can't just leave you here!"

"I'm a damsel, I'm in distress, I can handle it." You leaned forward so you were propped up on your elbows and pulled America down to your level with a tug on the belt loop of his pants making his knees buckle, "Have a nice day." You gave him a dazzling little sarcastic smile.

"Well in that case," he smiled back leaning forward, "I'll have to capture you and keep you myself," he winked. You laughed as you were pushed back down into the pillows trying to swat him off of you.

His hands were pinning your wrists down and his knees held your legs close together so you couldn't kick. It was enough pressure to keep you down but not enough to hurt you. You couldn't stop laughing at the fun you two were having and how smooth he was, "I thought you were the hero?"

He put a pillowcase over his face, the owner had exploded earlier in your fight. "You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become a villain and you know I'm more or less immortal." You were thankful that the line ended differently than the last time he had said it in the closet.

"What a shame, I never got a spider style kiss," you gave him a small pout.

"Maybe I could be the hero one more time," you could tell he was smiling by the tone of his voice.

You leaned back up and he backed up, your face serious you had wanted to kiss America for the longest time and you didn't want the moment to be lost. You put your hand at the rim of the cover and began pushing it up along America's jaw line. "Careful," he answered as your fingers touched the base of his lips. You rolled it up around his lips and leaned in, you almost had hit his lips when he said, "You won't tell anyone right?" you knew he wasn't talking about the kiss.

You shook your head no, "You're secret is safe with me."

He pulled the hood completely off of his head, his hair staticy and swishing the direction you had pulled the bag off. You pretended to give a small gasp and he smiled at you, "Where were we?"

You brushed your fingertips against his cheek, "Somewhere around here."

"I think it was a little closer," he moved your fingers over to his lips and kissed their tips lightly, "About here."

You smiled almost as big as before and leaned in, this time without blush all over your face.


End file.
